


Not Destiny

by Evalangui



Series: Breaking The Ice [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-17
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-06-28 19:41:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,250
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15713790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evalangui/pseuds/Evalangui
Summary: Thomas has one thing in life he’s sure of: hockey. It’s a career but it’s not a life plan, but at twenty-two he’s happy enough drifting by. It’s not like he can expect to meet his soulmate: after all, betas have no way of knowing who their ideal partner is.Uriel knows what he wants to accomplish: help as many people in need as possible as a lawyer and activist—especially children. As an alpha, dating is more a minefield than an adventure. He is not willing to enter the kind of relationship an omega expects and betas never believe he will stay.When they meet, their connection is undeniable. But even if love is not in the hands of fate, can two people who were never meant to be together do all work it takes?Alpha/beta/omega alternate universe where politics are a little better, ecology has a stronger hold of the general public’s mind and bisexuality is the norm.Paranormal contemporary romance, with a side of hockey and courtrooms.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I ended up writing Thomas's story first? Like, technically. I'm 95% done but I need all the feedback because I wrote it SO fast that I can't look at it objectively. Please tell me what you think! Especially if I somehow manage to contradict what I said in "Cracking Ice"... Not sure I can keep 300,000 words straight in my head.

#  Chapter One: Thomas

It was a stroke of luck that the recital was so busy. His parents wanted to sit as close to the front as possible—to be fair, his dad couldn’t really stand for long periods of time and his father always escorted him around. Eira and Grace followed them through the crowd, but Thomas held back.

He could have taken the seat at the end of the row next to Eira, but without Colleen around his ability to keep a civil tongue around his parents was limited. Eira and Grace were only fifteen and thirteen and although he was pretty sure they were both geniuses when it came to electrical engineering, chemistry and whatever variety of scientific knowledge had taken their fancy any given week, he couldn’t count on them as a buffer.

Not that he expected anything like that, it was his job as the eldest to protect them, not the other way around. He’d been hoping Colleen would keep him company, but she’d already texted that she was running late—her linguistics presentation at university had run long.

He leaned against the back wall, close to the exit and out of sight. He was tall enough he could easily see across the room to the stage where Valentina and the rest of the choir were standing in bright red shirts. The ruffles in her shirt and matching ribbons at the end of her plaits had been obviously chosen by their dad. She looked lovely, of course, but Thomas knew Val preferred to wear her hair in a single low ponytail and her clothes plain. At least Colleen was around to make sure that could happen most of the time and that their parents didn’t buy their youngest sister an all pink flowery wardrobe.

Colleen was the expert on handling their parents. Thomas was grateful, even if he also couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. If anyone should have protected the younger kids, it should have been him… But at least he was here now, and he’d keep showing up school events, buying them the ‘wrong’ clothes and lying about Colleen spending the night at his place when she went out with friends their parents wouldn’t have approved of while she lived under their roof and ate their food.

He covered his mouth, unable to supress a yawn. Someone older was talking to the audience about something Thomas couldn’t quite catch—although from years in school he guessed it wouldn’t have helped keep him awake. If the recital was meant to highlight the children’s talent and hard work, why weren’t they singing?

Someone pressed against his side and Thomas jumped, a rush of adrenaline going through him. “Sorry!” The newcomer gave him an apologetic look.

Thomas blinked at him, then shook his head and took back his place against the wall. “It’s fine, you woke me up,” he added.

The stranger seemed surprised, but he smiled and _oh,_ he was _pretty_. He was also older—probably married with kids if he was here. “Your kid singing?” he asked.

The man repressed a smile. “Nah. Well, I volunteer in an adoption centre. Kyeran’s really cool, so…” He seemed almost embarrassed by it, which Thomas didn’t get. It did make him flush enticingly.

“That’s really sweet of you,” he told him, eyeing up the kids lined up in the stage now that the adult in charge had vacated it.

“No, I told you, he’s really cool. And he loves singing, better than therapy, apparently.”

Thomas shot him a look. Valentina was nine and the kids with her had to all be under twelve, but if the kid was living in an adoption centre... “Sounds like a tough kid.”

The man shrugged and Thomas’ eyes were hopelessly drawn to the lines of his shoulders and arms under his blue suit. Probably come straight from work to make it on time for an event programmed with children’s bedtimes in mind. Thomas could see why a kid would trust this guy, down to earth and open even to a stranger. He extended a hand across the space between them. “I’m Thomas, by the way.”

“Uri.” The guy’s smile didn’t get any less stunning with repeated exposure, apparently.

“So do you live with them?”

“Oh, no,” Uri said at once. “I’m a lawyer, I represent them when they need help. I sort out adoption paperwork and stuff like that. Well, when they can find parents that are crazy enough to want to jump through all the hoops.”

“Um, I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about this stuff. Why is it so hard?” He shifted in place, suddenly hoping the concert would start and save him the embarrassment. “I play hockey. For a living, I mean,” he explained.

The stranger blinked his beautiful hazel eyes up at Thomas—he was only slightly shorter and built in the way men who didn’t spend half their lives at the gym could be, healthy and strong but not designed—and Thomas realised his words didn’t quite make sense out of context. He loved hockey, of course, but it was a little hard to explain that he didn’t know what happened to kids in his own neighbourhood when their parents couldn’t take care of them, or simply weren’t around. It seemed like something everyone should be aware of, like how to call the police or the fire brigade. And maybe they were and Thomas had slept through that Civics lesson, too.

Uri was quiet for long enough Thomas risked a look. “Most people don’t know about it,” he said kindly. “But kids cannot be adopted if their biological parents are alive and might be able to take them back. Or grandparents. Any close family, really. The law says we must do our best to get them back where they belong.”

“But what if the parents aren’t… fit or something?”

“If they are dangerous, they are disqualified, but if they are just drunkards or too out of it to remember to buy the kids clothes and school supplies and check they go to bed? Well, it’s their kids and they have parental rights, so they get another chance.”

“But then what’s the point of an adoption centre?”

Uri sighed, pressing his lips together for a moment. “Good question, and I’ve had a few kids ask me, too, to be honest. I guess the point is to get that lucky. Some of us do,” he added with a conciliatory smile.

“Oh, so you…”

He nodded. “I was six, and my mums are amazing.” He stole a look to the front of the room. “But most of the time, luck needs some help, I’ll admit.”

“You can say that again,” Thomas agreed wholeheartedly. It was only when the other man’s gaze returned to his face that he realised he’d have to explain the comment. “Um, just—” He exhaled, resigned, why couldn’t he not overshare for bloody once? “My parents aren’t…” His eyes searched them out, a part of his brain always keeping track of whether they were close enough to overhear. “They are very traditional,” he settled for, which was true but didn’t explain why he’d brought them up when Uri was talking about being adopted, probably after losing his own biological parents somehow if the process had been the same back then.

He almost jumped when he felt the other man lean against his side, intentionally this time. But at least in this his body didn’t mess up. He turned his head to check the other’s reaction and found him staring towards the stage like an attentive guest, Thomas thought he might have been blushing but even as close as he was, his darker skin made it hard to tell. “So who are you here to see?”

It was an innocuous enough question; except it wasn’t asked an innocuous time. “My little sister. The littlest, actually, I’ve got four.”

Uri’s eyes flickered his way—in surprise?—and he nodded. “Sounds like fun. I only got one brother. David, same age as me.”

“Uriel and David…” Thomas repeated.

“My parents aren’t traditional,” Uri clarified. “They just like to remember where we come from.”

Thomas swallowed the question on the tip of his tongue, torn between wanting to know—he’d known the man for less than thirty minutes and he’d already made him want to know more about several things he’d never even thought about… Uri let the pause stand, then gave him a nod. “Adoption counts as conversion,” he explained.

“Well, you look the part,” Thomas offered, then immediately winced. It was true, which was to say that he conformed to a stereotype that had some basis on biology. “Fuck, I—”

Uri covered his mouth, bending over a little as he laughed. Thomas watched him, half fascinated, half dreading what he’d said. “I’m sorry,” he insisted. “That was… rude.”

Uri’s dark eyes were still full of mirth when he straightened. “I like it,” he told Thomas. “You say what you think.”

“Well, I don’t think saying racist shit is a plus, really—”

“No,” Uri cut him off. “It’s not racist to acknowledge I look different from you. And, anyway, it’s… I kinda like that I look the part, I suppose.”

He vacillated, not sure if he if he should explain that he didn’t actually know what Jews looked like, not outside of movies, anyway, because… Well, he never spoke about stuff like this with anyone. He had no idea if any of his teammates were religious. If they needed to do anything to keep their gods happy, it certainly didn’t show when they put their skates and got on the ice.

And he’d never asked.

But maybe there was a reason they hadn’t said, either. Uri had. Uri wanted him to know. To know him.

“Well, if you were looking for someone who can stick his foot in his mouth at least once per conversation…”

The soft smile turned sharp. “Wouldn’t say I was looking for anyone,” he clarified. “But—”

Just then a woman on the last row turned and around and shot them a venomous look. Thomas startled a little but Uri straightened like he’d been electrocuted. Thomas pressed his shoulder against the other man’s in silent support as the angelic voices of the children started to rise in the auditorium.

They were really good, to his surprise, and Valentina was standing straight and full of manic energy—not like when she was performing most of the afterschool activities their parents signed her up for. Maybe this would be a good compromise—something she loved that their parents thought it was appropriate for her to love.

Uri hadn’t moved away, and Thomas was proud he managed to keep his attention on the kids. It wasn’t just that the guy was hot, either—the unfinished conversation nagged at him.

But when he saw Valentina running off the stage towards their family, he couldn’t hold himself back and started pushing his way to the front. He could see her later, sure, but it was Val, the unexpected late baby, the one that would always be a baby for her big brother because there was no getting over holding a child that young and defenceless in your arms. She was already in his father’s arms when he reached them but she turned towards him when he touched her hair, smiling widely in delight.

“Thomas!” she squealed. His father let him take her with a warning look—she was a big girl now and shouldn’t be babied. She could be a little girl as long as she pleased as far as Thomas was concerned. And, anyway, hadn’t his father picked her up in the first place?

“Wow, you sing like an angel, but you are getting heavy as a rock!” he teased her.

She huffed. “I’m not!” She hit his arm with an open hand. “Mayyybe you skipped the gym again. I watched your game the other day, you need to watch your left more,” she admonished.

The damned thing was, she was right. She had an eye for the game, Thomas wasn’t sure if it was a natural gift or just all the hours he’d put her through when he’d babysat her during his secondary school years when he’d had whole mornings free.

“Thomas,” his dad cut in. “We need to get the girls home for dinner.”

Thomas looked away from Valentina’s dimming smile. “It’s not that late, is it?”

“You’re invited too, of course,” his dad offered, gentle but implacable. It was a common theme for him; he was an omega and really believed that meant he should be submissive and want nothing but to take care of his family, but at the same time he had very fixed ideas about how to do that and since his instincts were designed for just such a task, his opinion on the matter was unarguably superior to Thomas’s own.

Thomas hesitated before letting Val slide down to the floor. “Can’t,” he said with a shrug he hoped looked regretful enough. “Early practice.”

“Of course,” his dad agreed, green eyes inexpressive. Thomas didn’t think he’d bought it, but it didn’t matter, did it? It wasn’t like telling him the truth was encouraged or even tolerated in their house.

It wasn’t something Thomas could deal with when Colleen wasn’t around to act as a buffer—especially not when his dad had pretty much announced his younger sisters would be sent to bed soon after. He gave his dad a short nod even as Val, quick to catch on, gave him a last squeeze before abandoning him to go find one of her friends to say goodbye.

Eira and Grace, both in homemade dresses that made them look like they’d just stepped through a time portal from their parents’ childhood, were whispering quietly to each other in a corner.

They looked up when Thomas approached, and Eira extended an arm for a half hug. Grace didn’t, she disliked being touched. She could put up with it when her parents insisted it was expected of her, but none of her siblings required it of her.

“You running away?” Eira asked, low enough not to be overheard but sharp enough to make Thomas grimace.

“You know it’ll just...” He waved a hand around.

His little sister sighed, put upon but understanding beyond her years. “Yeah, whatever. Can we come to your flat this weekend?”

Thomas frowned, trying to remember what day of the week it was. He knew he had a game coming in three days, but other than that...

"It’s Tuesday,” Eira offered, projecting superior amusement that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a celebrity, or a monarch.

Thomas rolled his eyes at her. “Okay, so I’m playing a game on Friday. Home ice. You can come over on Saturday.” He glanced at their father, who seemed to be finishing his conversation with whoever had been keeping him busy so far. “Are you working on something special?” he risked asking.

It wasn’t like their parents disapproved of his middle sisters playing around with transistors and robots—not as long as they were also willing to dress the part of good girls and keep the right company. It was less that they struggled to live up to their standards and more that being under observation all the time was pretty exhausting.

“We can’t get the new radio amplifier to work,” Grace offered. “We don’t know why, but maybe someone at that store close to your house can help.”

“Sure,” he agreed. “We can stop by. Maybe we can all go to dinner, then Colleen can take Val home and you can sleep over.”

Grace smiled at him for that, a rare sight. Thomas returned it in kind. He felt a little guilty sometimes for how obviously he preferred Colleen and Valentina—but then again, Grace and Eira were practically attached to each other. It worked for them; it didn’t mean he didn’t love them too—or that he wasn’t there when they needed a safe space to decompress.

“Thomas, it was nice of you to come,” his father said, making him jump a little. He’d lost track of him, he realised with annoyance.

“Um, sure, couldn’t miss Val’s debut,” he replied, trying a smile. “She’s good, isn’t she?”

His father nodded. “Yes, she has a lovely voice. Might be something we want her to pursue,” he added thoughtfully.

It was nothing sinister, but it made Thomas tense anyway—he couldn’t help it, with his parents it was always about the ultimate goal of turning them into perfect citizens, which itself was nothing else but a side-effect of their own goal of proving _they_ were perfect citizens. Children were a reflection on their parents, his dad liked to say. Thomas must have been a reflection a pretty muddy pool in that case, not that either of his parents would have said anything as straight-forward for his career choice, but he knew anyway. He’d been brought up to help his family and support his community, and what had he done with that privilege? He’d decided to play a game for a living. Exercise was a healthy life-style choice, of course—his father went on a run every morning before work and his dad did yoga and calisthenics—but sports… Well, they were all well and good for children **,** of course, that’s how Thomas had ended up in the ice in the first place. They’d encouraged his passion back then and attended his games with the same supportive smiles they’d probably had as Val sang, but later…

“Yeah, maybe,” he said vaguely, looking over his father’s shoulder more than at the man. And then he saw him. The man from earlier… It took his brain a moment to scramble for the name. Uri. “Oh, I gotta…” Across the room, as if feeling the weight of his gaze, dark eyes met his and the excuse turned into a very real urge. “Sorry, I need to talk to someone.”

He didn’t wait for his father to answer, a choice he’d likely have to pay for later. But Thomas was very much a guy who lived in the present; later, after all, might never come.

Uri was tall enough that they could have held each other’s gazes as Thomas crossed the auditorium, but he’d looked away after barely a moment. He was probably talking to someone, maybe the kid he’d come to watch, but Thomas got the feeling the withdrawal had been more deliberate than that.

For a second, the thought occurred to him that the guy might not want to talk to him again, but his feet didn’t seem to care and when he caught sight of the broad shoulders again, the decision was somehow already made.

The child chattering away was dark skinned and curly haired, and obviously half in love with Uri, who was nodding along with a serious, attentive expression that seemed at odds with both the setting and his interlocutor. Except, Thomas thought as he slowed to watch, that Uri made it seemed anything but odd. He raised a hand and said something, then listened again, tilting his head to literally give his ear—and catching Thomas staring straight at him like a total creep. He offered an apologetic smile and a shrug and got an intense, steady look in turn.

He was pretty sure that look didn’t mean he should fuck off.

And they’d already established Thomas was the kind of person who didn’t have a very good sense of… timing, and that Uriel liked that. Maybe, Thomas hoped he wasn’t being too optimistic, that Uriel liked _him_.

It was definitely worth a shot.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO excited about this story I needed to share some more! :D:D:D:D

#  Chapter Two: Uriel

Uri was listening to Kyeran chat on about school and how he wanted to be a lawyer when he grew up, unless he became a singer, that was, when he looked up and locked gazes with a gorgeous pair of green eyes. To be fair, he’ll been tracking the man since the end of the performance. Well, okay, maybe he’d stolen a glance or two _while_ the choir sang; but what did it matter? The point of a choir was singing, not their appearance.

Uri wanted to be just as unconcerned with the guy’s… _Thomas’s_ appearance. He’d been unsurprised to find out the guy was a professional athlete, having had a close up look of his arms and chest, it was either that or impossibly lucky genetics.

And now he was ambling over, as if he’d taken Uri’s look as an invitation. It hadn’t been meant as one, but as he made an effort to keep track of Kyeran’s story and not check Thomas’s trajectory, it was hard to pretend he minded.

The beta approached slowly, probably so he wouldn’t startle them, but Uri’s eyes found him before he could speak. “Hey, there.” His smile, a little lopsided, was an invitation to activities not appropriate for a public space.

“Hey,” Uri managed, a part of him still a little worried the other man would walk away. For a long moment, he watched Thomas, a little fascinated and a little blank with nerves, then he put a hand on Kyeran’s shoulder and turned him to face the man. “This is my friend, Kyeran. Kyeran, this is Thomas. Thomas’s little sister is in the choir.”

Thomas smiled at Kyeran. “Nice to meet you.” He offered the boy a hand, oddly formal and impossibly charming.

Kyeran shook it, but also gave him a through once-over that made Uri cringe. “Are you a lawyer too?”

“No,” Thomas replied with easy self-assurance. “I play hockey.”

“Hockey?” Kyeran asked, eyes widening.

Thomas’s grin was pure delight, so much so that it occurred to Uri to wonder how old he could be. “You like to play?”

“Yeah! We got sticks at the centre, and we can play in the backyard. But the older kids always want to play _football_ ,” he added with a put-upon sigh.

“People are crazy,” Thomas agreed wholeheartedly. Uri snorted next to them, unintentionally recalling his attention. “What? Are you one of those people who like football better than hockey?” Thomas asked, possibly not completely in jest.

Uri raised both palms, biting back a smile but pretending to be intimidated. It was probably not the time to mention he and David had been a little obsessed with England winning the Football World Cup—they’d got over it by the time and he’d played hockey in secondary school, on grass, but he thought it’d be good enough. “I’m neutral here, I like them both.”

“Cop out,” Kyeran mumbled, which made both Uri and Thomas start laughing.

“It is, though,” Thomas pointed out once he’d calmed down. “At least football fans are brave enough to come out and _say_ it. This whole neutrality bullshit…”

“I _am_ a lawyer,” Uri reminded him, then something caught his eye. “Kyeran, Mx Lasso is here. She’s gotta be looking for you.”

Kyeran sighed but agreed to meet the caretaker in charge of picking him up. Thomas watched him go with his lips pressed tightly together.

“He’s a bit dramatic,” Uri told him. “The adoption centre is not a bad place, just… Well, it’s hard to be there when you cannot get adopted.”

Thomas turned to look at him again. “Cannot get adopted?”

Uri shrugged, then explained, “Family is around, just can’t… They visit, but it means he’s stuck.”

“Sounds tough,” Thomas commented, but it wasn’t a platitude, he gently prodded for more, “So you are trying to…?”

“Oh, no, there’s… well, there’s nothing I can do. Kyeran wants to go back to them and they want him back. I’m just… I spend a lot of time there. It helps if they know me,” he explained.

“So you stick around and watch a lot of anime and pretend you don’t like it?” Thomas suggested with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Uri glanced up at him, smiling a little already. “Nah, I don’t pretend not to like it. It’s alright, as long as no one at work finds out—the kids already know I’m not cool.”

“Aren’t you?” Thomas tilted his head to the side almost coquettishly—for such a big guy, he was strangely at ease with gestures of submission. Of course, he was a beta, so… “From the look on that boy’s face; pretty sure the only thing you're missing it’s a cape!”

Uri looked away, feeling his face heat up. He hoped it wasn’t obvious and it was certainly a relief that Thomas’s nose wasn’t fine enough to pick up the roiling mix of emotions he was sure must have been completely obvious to any omegas or alphas; pleasure, discomfort… desire.

“Or spandex,” Thomas added very softly. So softly Uri shook himself before looking him in the face, as if he could find some sign of the words there if they had actually been pronounced by those lips. He could, actually; Thomas’s pupils were big and his eyelashes at half-mast as he stared at Uri with badly disguised… hunger. There wasn’t another word for it.

He swallowed, feeling oddly wrong-footed and his hesitation must have been obvious because Thomas backed down a step, big shoulders hunching a little and gaze dropping to the ground. “My bad, I just—”

“No.” The word was out before he could think it through, and it wasn’t like Uri—thinking it through was basically his job description and life motto both, but… “I… You want a drink?”

It was as awkward a proposal as he’d ever managed, and he’d managed quite a few that he never wanted anyone to know about. He was never quite sure if people liked him, not… sexually. Because this wasn’t romantic, that was transparently obvious. He dared meet Thomas’s eyes once more, braced for it without quite knowing what he was preparing himself for. What was he even _doing_?

But before he could figure out what had possessed him to such boldness, Thomas had stepped back into his space, even closer than before and, for a moment, he forgot how to breathe, let alone speak. Then Thomas placed a careful hand on his elbow. “I’d love a drink.”

Uri shivered as their skin came into contact for the first time—nothing magical about it, just skin on skin making him hungry for more. It’d been way too long, if he…

“I have some at home,” Thomas added.

“What?”

“Drinks,” Thomas reminded him. He was definitely younger than Uri, but there was something about his cocky expression that promised he knew what he was doing, and he…

“A little fast, aren’t we?” he asked, straightening and taking a step back without looking away.

The beta got it at once, grinning like he enjoyed the challenge. “Oh, my bad,” he repeated, this time with an overly-bright tone that made it clear he wasn’t sorry at all. “Maybe I can make it up to you? There’s got to be a pub close by.”

Uri hesitated, mind rushing even as his eyes found Thomas’s smirking lips again. “Let’s go,” he said, taking the plunge before he could overthink it. He was being asked and his answer was yes—and Thomas was a beta, as free to choose this as he was anything else. Equally free to walk away any time if it stopped being of interest.

Once they were outside, walking close enough their arms brushed as they swung at their sides but not touching intentionally, Thomas started looking around over the milling crowd of parents. Even though children were not allowed into pubs after noon, it seemed highly unlikely they could find anywhere right then—right after all the concert goers had been freed from the obligation of listening to their kids and the added pleasure of getting to hear adults pretending to be modest about how much they’d helped said kids.

_If you need to remind people of what you did, you obviously did not help that much_ , Esti always said. Uri wholeheartedly agreed.

“Is it close?” he asked. If he was going to do this, then he’d freaking do it. No beating around the bush, no pointless small talk in a room too loud to really hear each other in.

Maybe his tone was too abrupt because Thomas stopped walking. “What?”

“Your place,” Uri said calmly. He wasn’t calm but he’d learned to hide that kind of thing early on when interviewing witnesses. No one wanted to tell sensitive stories to a nervous wreck—no one really wanted to spend time with one in a social setting either.

“Oh.” Thomas was clearly confused, but didn’t question him. “Well, sort of. I live in New Cross Gate.”

It wouldn't be even half an hour walking from Peckham, but walking was a little too slow for his speeding pulse. “We could get hoverboards.”

“Really?” The man sounded shocked, but delighted. Uri almost asked him his age, but it didn’t seem like the kind of question to ask someone who’d simply offered a little pleasure—not when he was clearly legal, at least.

“What?” Uri demanded, raising his eyebrows. “A guy in a suit can’t have fun?”

“Oh, I’m sure you are a lot of fun,” Thomas assured him with a slow, deliberate look down his body, and gods, he was _shameless_.

Uri used the excuse of looking for a hover station to look away from him, hoping the light was low enough to hide his blush. It seemed a little unfair that he had to deal with all the… side-effects of not being Caucasian without at least getting skin dark enough to hide his feelings. From betas, a least, alphas and omegas also got the benefit of being able to figure out his emotions from his pheromones.

Since children weren’t allowed to ride real hoverboards, the floating rides that went fast enough to be effective transportation for short distances were almost always the exclusive domain of teenagers thirteen and older. Uri still remembered getting up at the crack of dawn the day he was due to attend the qualification course at his school. He was not a morning person, but it had been worth every minute to suddenly have the freedom to move around the city on his own—there was nothing wrong with the buses and trams, sure, but it was nothing to having his own vehicle. Hoverboards identification codes meant that all your routes were recorded so they could not get lost and so that any damage detected when the board returned to the base after you were done with it and sent it floating could be paid for by the real culprit. It’d seemed harmless enough when he’d been told about it back when he’d signed up for it, but of course it hadn’t taken that long for someone to think of other uses for that data. In the fallout of the kidnapping case where the perpetrators had snatched a kid of their hoverboard, parents had acquired the right to request their children’s movements to ensure their safety.

They didn’t even need to justify their request beyond that, which was—

“Hey,” Thomas said. Uri stopped to look at him.

“You looked really far away,” the beta told him. He was right, of course, but Uri had no idea how he could tell. Thomas didn’t press, returning to his natural bonhomie. “You sure you remember how to ride, old man?”

“Oh, I can ride,” he said, not looking away. Thomas hid it well but he couldn’t quite supress his reaction at the innuendo. Good, it cost Uri to say things like that, but he couldn’t quite let someone dominate the conversation so completely.  

In truth, Uri couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken out a hoverboard—the firm he worked for was in Oval, which was far enough from Brixton to require a tram, and his parents’ place was so close work he almost always visited after he was done. The homemade dinners and intelligent conversation after a whole day of struggling to convince people other people mattered and the law did indeed support that view… Well, sometimes it was all that made the day bearable.

He loved his job. It was hard and he loved the challenge; or at least he loved the results enough to make the sweat seem worth it… But he needed the safety of a place where no one questioned his most basic beliefs about humanity, where they had _taught_ him those beliefs—not simply telling him what was right, but showing him the way you behaved like a decent human being by listening to what others needed and trying your hardest to give it to them.

Not that there weren’t plenty of conversations, too—Ruth was a philosophy professor at a local college and Esti was a social worker, so there was very little in their lives that didn’t need to be analysed for moral failings. But sometimes he was too exhausted to talk, and then he could just go home—to the place that still felt like home to him even a decade after he’d moved out to go to university—and be with people who understood. The people who’d taught him how to bear the pain of failure and the struggle of a just fight and keep going, which was to say, the people who’d taught him to sit down and eat a good meal, laugh at a silly comedy and sleep in on Sundays.

His mothers and he didn’t really talk about sex. Esti had saved David and him the embarrassment by matriculating them into a sex education seminar at around the same they’d got their hoverboarding licenses. But the same principle applied here: seize the moment and share the joy.

He unhooked the hoverboard with his foot, stealing a glance at Thomas only to find him shaking his head. “Show off,” he accused while he used the manual disengage mechanism. He then proceeded to jump on the board, making it wobble for a moment before he used what must have been rock solid core muscles to stabilize it. He met Uri’s eyes, eyebrows raised. “Coming?”

Uri snorted, not sure if the pun was intentional, and Thomas’s smile turned up a little further as if to confirm that yes, his sense of humour was that immature.

He stepped onto the board before tapping twice with his toe to get it on the air, not wanting to risk falling on his face in front of the guy with the professionally trained reflexes. And then decided to prove that wasn’t that mature either and shot ahead of Thomas, brushing by his side fast enough to risk making him stumble. The risk was minimal because the board only hovered about thirty centimetres over the ground, but it set his heart hammering as he leaned in a little further forward that the still crowded streets made wise.

It was reckless, especially after so long, but he couldn’t do anything else with the rush of adrenaline suddenly pumping through him. It needed out and whether it was the board or the guy cursing him out a few feet behind, it needed out _now_.

He turned into a side street, not caring about destination, just about finding some space to let loose in where he wouldn’t crash into anyone. He got lucky, it was big enough for motorbikes but old enough to have cobblestones, which would keep all sensible people on wheels well away. He bent his knees and pushed his shoulders forward for a little extra momentum and laughed out loud as the wind rushed through his hair and made his dress jacket flap round him. Like a cape, he thought, remembering Thomas’s comment about Kyeran.

Something sped past him and he clenched his eyes shut even as he straightened to keep his balance. “Tosser!” he called out as soon as he was sure he wasn’t going to fall head first into a garbage bin.

Thomas, who was the worst of show-offs, turned his board in a broad circle so that he could meet Uri’s eyes. His smirk only made Uri wanted to bite his mouth all the more, but before he had a chance to do anything, Thomas offered a jaunty wave and turned into the next street, even narrower and practically deserted except from a veiled figure who, after pausing for an instant to assess whether they were a treat, kept walking on the other sidewalk.

Uri leaned forward, urging his board to speed up and keeping his shoulders tense for balance.

Thomas, who’d slowed down enough to look back at him again, met his eyes across the distance and signed. {Catch me?} With eyebrows raised and mouth wickedly curved. He waited a moment, long enough to see Uri’s reaction, then turned and raced away.

Uri hadn’t quite decided but he found himself following at once, his body responding to the challenge as if by some deep instinct. He never knew if those were an alpha’s aggressiveness or human folly. He normally cared—maybe too much. But right now all he knew were the fresh air, a little cold even, and the man in front of him, banking hard as he reached the corner going way too fast. Uri closed the distance between them, wondering if there was someone he couldn’t see. But a quick look proved the streets were safely empty.

As far as he could tell, Thomas had simply stopped at the crossing. “You okay?” he asked, a little confused.

Thomas looked up, seemingly from very far away. “Yeah, just... Maybe this is a bit dangerous.”

He seemed strangely vulnerable. “Didn’t think hockey players cared that much about their physical integrity,” Uri joked.

It was the wrong thing to say; Thomas frowned. “I don’t care that much about getting hurt on the ice, and anyone who’s on it with me knows the score. But hurting someone here because I’m being irresponsible is completely different.”

Uri stared at him, mind reeling. “I’m sorry,” he said after a beat. “I— it wasn’t funny.”

“I... Dammit.” Thomas swallowed, turning his face away and exhaling slowly. “I’m sorry.” He rubbed his face. “For snapping at you.”

He was half a head taller and broader too but seeing him slump forward like that called to every protective urge in Uri’s brain—and if it was an alpha thing, it was the only one he had never minded. Being a good person was hard enough without overanalysing if what made you try to help others was biology or nurture. In the end, only the results counted. He slid his board close enough that the anti-crash mechanism slowed him down and reached out to gently cup Thomas’s elbow. His skin was colder now and he didn’t lean into the touch. Uri kept it light but squeezed once. “We can slow down, it’s a nice night.”

The beta raised his eyes, still not quite back to normal, and looked around. “Is it?”

“Well, for London,” Uri clarified.

That earned him a snort from Thomas. “Okay, then. Let’s take a leisurely stroll... My place isn’t far,” he added somewhat hesitatingly.

“Good,” Uri reassured him. “You promised me a drink.”

 

&

 

Uri couldn’t have said how long it’d taken them to reach the right block of flats. Once they weren’t racing, it became harder to ignore that what Thomas was really offering wasn’t a drink. There was nothing wrong with casual sex, of course, but it wasn’t really Uri’s thing—no matter how much he was told him dating betas could be nothing but. Maybe he wouldn’t bond with a beta, but then again, the idea of bonding an omega wasn’t—

His thoughts came to a halt when he saw the hall they’d just walked into. Marble floors and silver details, as well as enough decorative plants the building had to be paying a water usage plus.

Thomas seemed to catch on to his surprise because he turned to seek his gaze. “The team gives us the flats for a flat fee. They like to be able to find us,” he added with a shrug and a boyish smile.

Uri almost mentioned how utterly creepy that was, but he bit it back. He probably had already upset the man enough for one night. Even if they would only have this night. Especially if they’d only have this night.

“It’s beautiful,” he said instead.

Thomas shrugged, clearly assuming Uri was just being polite. “Come on, the stairs are this way.”

So the electricity regulation on lifts still applied. That was good, he supposed. Uri had never lived anywhere with a lift, but it was meant to be used only for the higher floors and those who needed it. But by the time they made it to the second landing, he started to suspect he might have been a little too out of shape for the stairs. He was panting a little—while Thomas could have clearly keep going without breaking a sweat—when the beta stopped so suddenly he had to reach out and steady himself by clutching at Thomas’s hip.

He looked up, expecting an explanation and found Thomas’s green eyes sparkling. He allowed a beat to pass between them before he reached out and put a big hand on Uri’s cheek. It was an odd position, standing below someone who was already taller than him, and… Thomas’s eyes flickered down. To his lips, he was sure of it. “I really want to kiss you,” Thomas said, which seemed like a question except that he was already bending closer.

Uri tightened his hold on Thomas’s shirt and straightened to his full height, allowing his face to be tilted upwards. Thomas’s lips were a little dry, maybe from the wind, maybe from the ice he spent so much time on, but it didn’t matter for long—after the first warm brush of mouths, his tongue came out to lick at the seal of Uri’s lips. Uri sucked on it, suddenly desperate. Thomas grunted into the kiss and Uri’s instinct to pull him closer would have sent them crashing down the stairs if Thomas hadn’t had the foresight to take hold of the banister.

He threw himself backwards as he pulled and Uri stumbled, but managed to regain his footing and keep them both upright. Slowly, he lifted his face from where it’d ended up pressed to Thomas’s collarbone. He was still panting, from excitement or terror, or both. And then he met Thomas’s eyes and his breath left him in a rush; it took him a second to realise the man was _laughing_.

His laughter was possibly the only unattractive thing about him, high and nasal and nothing like the smooth tenor of his voice, but that set Uri off too. It was a good feeling, leaning on a warm body as he laughed away the fear. “Oh, gods. I’m— I’m sorry,” he managed to get out between guffawing.

Despite the shared hilarity, Thomas lowered his hand from Uri’s shoulder—where it’d ended up as they flailed—to his elbow so he could tug him up a step. He was still taller than Uri but he was near enough to kiss again. And if Uri gave in, he thought as it stopped being funny and started getting hot again, they were guaranteed to fall down the stairs. It was clear Thomas’s plans were always going to be a little on the dangerous side. He shook his head, turning his face away. “What floor?”

“Third,” Thomas answered, lips brushing his ear.

Uri shot him an incredulous look, taking a step back with the strength of his indignation. “We’re almost there?!”

Thomas shrugged, leaning back against the wall at his back and making Uri realise his hand was still clenched on the other man’s shirt. “I thought it’d get weird, if…”

Uri leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his lips, enough to shut him up but not enough to taste him. He couldn’t let himself taste him again, not and… He let go and stepped back, Thomas’s hand on his shoulder falling away. “Go get me that drink,” he ordered, pointing upwards with his head.

Thomas smiled like he’d been complimented, then gave an almost regal nod. “Yes, sir.” But instead of moving, he glanced downwards. It took Uri a long moment to realise he had to give him more space if he expected him to turn enough to continue climbing up the stairs. He chose to take a cautious step down, taking hold of the opposite banister just in case.

He heard Thomas’s steps pounding up the steps, even faster than before. Maybe he’d given the man good incentive to hurry, or maybe he was simply that young and fit, of course.

_Gods_ , what had possessed him to do this? He followed more slowly, already hoping the drink would settle his nerves. Maybe just enough to tell Thomas… The door was open already, soft light spilling into the equally fancy corridor. He walked through the doorway like he was going into court, heart battering and mind sharp with nerves. Maybe that’s where he got the confidence to close the door behind him without hesitating. But he hadn’t prepared any arguments. He didn’t think there _were_ any for Thomas’s warm smile and the bottles he’d set on the table for Uri to choose from.

“So are you a beer guy or more of a whiskey person?”

“Neither,” Uri said without thinking, then shook himself. “But give me whiskey. Please.”

“Ice?” Thomas offered, already getting a low glass and pouring.

“Um, yeah,” Uri agreed. He had never tried whiskey, but he couldn’t think of a single beverage that tasted better at room temperature.

Thomas’s fridge turned out to have an ice compartment that helpfully spewed out some cubes into the glass like a robot in a science fiction movie. Thomas turned his way and set the glass down, then offered an apologetic smile and lifted his hand to his mouth to… lick it. Uri stared, forgetting the drink, air, and the universe.

The show must not have been intentional because Thomas caught him looking and pulled his hand away at once, proving he was capable of blushing. It looked good on him, like everything else.

“I forgot you put the ice in before the whiskey,” he explained, then went and opened the beer for himself.

Uri took a sip of his whiskey, then grimaced at the burn. _Ugh_ , why did people drink this?

He heard Thomas laugh. “You wanna sit, maybe?” his host offered.

Uri checked the level of his drink—unfortunately high—and pulled up a chair from the beautiful glass table. He frowned, rubbing his thumb against it; it weighed so little that he was a little unsure about sitting on it.

“Doesn’t seem real, does it?” Thomas asked, sitting on the identical chairs across the table. “It’s some polymer or something.”

Uri gave in and carefully took a seat, he was fairly sure Thomas outweighed him by at least twenty kilos of pure muscle. “Let me guess, the flat came furnished?”

He got a shrug in response. “Well, yeah, you think they want their players to spend time buying furniture when they could be putting in time on the ice?”

Uri took another sip and managed not to wince. “Don’t you have to do that anyway?”

“Well, some practices are optional, so…”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Think you'll like this one ;)

#  Chapter Three: Thomas

“You go to every single one anyway?” Uri guessed.

Thomas didn’t quite manage to hide his smile. “I don’t go to morning practice sometimes, if I have something more interesting to do...” He raised his eyebrows and put the beer to his mouth for a long pull that exposed his throat—there was no way he was going to figure out how easy it was to make the man blush and not take advantage of it.

He heard Uri take a hasty drink of whiskey and put his empty bottle down with a smirk. “So I guess _you_ aren’t a workaholic, right? What with the volunteering to do more lawyering in your free time and all.”

“You’re either very confused about being a lawyer or about volunteering,” Uri told him calmly, he was a little flushed, but it could have been embarrassment or the drink he’d clearly never tried before. It didn’t detract from the appeal either way.

Thomas laughed. “Both, probably,” he allowed, leaning back with an arm over the back of his own strangely light chair, he hadn’t fallen off them in a while but it did take some getting used to. He didn’t miss Uri's gaze dropping to his chest. “So how is it different? It’s paperwork either way.”

“There _is_ a lot of paperwork,” Uri admitted, mirroring his posture. “But work is all pretty dry stuff, inheritances, lawsuits, contracts. There’s more interesting cases, but family law is normally reserved for more experienced barristers.”

He nodded to show he’d followed that far. He didn’t know any lawyers but he watched television, although if Uri’s endearing shyness was any indication, there were probably a lot less dubious trysts at his office than on The Omega Prosecutor. “And the adoption centre...?”

“The adoption centre is family law,” Uri said, he didn’t need to clarify it was his favourite. “And those kids... They really need my help, they didn’t decide to make a fuss about a contract or a divorce, or... Well, there are some people at work who are there for a good reason, but not most of them. At the centre, I know I won’t waste my time. Even if they don’t have anyone who needs legal help, there’s always something to do to help them. Sometimes it’s homework, and sometimes it’s football,” he added with a wry smile. “But it’s all time well spent.”

Thomas offered a dramatic grimace in response. “Sure, football is a sacrifice, isn’t it?” he asked sceptically.

“I do it for the children,” Uri replied with perfect panache.

Thomas snorted out a laugh, leaning forward to thump the table for emphasis. He’d been drawn to the guy for his looks: no one could blame him for noticing those dark eyes and light stubble—an odd detail on someone so perfectly tidy and put together, one that spoke of a certain… softness. But there was clearly something to quiet waters running deep; they’d known each other for a couple hours at most and somehow they kept finding all the ways in which they fit.

Thomas had tried dating before, and he’d sought out potential partners among those he’d have a lot in common with, and yet... This weird, casual encounter felt more like a date that the formal dinner affairs he’d so carefully planned.

It was also hard to find fault with the fact that even if the specific activities were unclear, their imminent arrival was not. Uri was shy, sure, but he could tease like the best of them too, and he wasn’t nervous over nothing. “How’s the whiskey?”

“Mmmm.... Burning my oesophagus?” Uri suggested. He paused, as if he hadn’t meant to say it, but it was exactly the kind of thing Thomas had always wanted to say in response to inane questions at the parties his parents organized—and mostly hadn’t dared. “I don’t really have anything to compare it to,” Uri added.

The opening couldn’t have been more perfect. “Let me try it.” He got up and pushed his chair back. “I know a little.”

Uri looked bemused right up until the moment Thomas put his right hand on the table and bent over enough to get their faces almost level. He let the tension hold, meeting Uri’s dark eyes from almost too close. A beat, then Uri gulped and Thomas let himself go, pressing their mouths together a little too hard. Uri didn’t seem to care, he surged up under Thomas’s, opening up to his tongue—he barely tasted like whiskey anymore by the time the table digging into his side became a problem for Thomas. He leaned left and pulled Uri's chair across the floor—for some reason, the material was almost frictionless as well as light and only Uri’s weight kept it from tumbling over. That and Uri’s hold, once again, on Thomas’s shirt.

“You are fucking dangerous,” the man accused, looking up. His lips were shining and his cheeks were dark with blood. Thomas was dying to see how far that blush went, but he was pretty sure tearing that nice dress shirt wouldn’t go over well.

He shrugged, then took hold of Uri’s arm and pulled him to his feet with a little too much force and stepped into him to stop his forward momentum. It left him a little winded, but it was worth it for the feeling of Uri’s strength against him—the guy had probably got the muscle lifting boxes for the food bank or something. It was both sweet and a little uncomfortable to think about, but he felt amazing and Thomas wasn’t looking the horse in the mouth.

Uri’s hands were already on his own chest, big and powerful and, _fuck_ , dexterous too if he went by how fast he found a nipple and then the exact amount of pressure to make Thomas’s go weak at the knees.

He exhaled, ragged and frantic, and followed blindly when Uri guided his face down and took his mouth into a kiss that was as much teeth as lips. Thomas knew exactly how he felt; cock hard, skin hypersensitive, burning up like he'd fallen asleep under the sun. Uri’s touch was like a balm on that unbearable tightness; one of his hands had made it under Thomas’s shirt and was exploring his lower back, tugging him closer to push their groins together. Thomas’s hips snapped, starting them off into a perfect dance even as his fingers clumsily tried to tug Uri’s dress shirt out of his trousers. He lost Uri’s mouth, getting his wet breath and the rasp of his stubble on the sensitive skin of his collarbone instead, and shuddered hard at the added stimulation, cock trapped between their bodies. Uri pushed back, his own erection hot through his dress trousers, nails digging into his back as he clung harder, and it was just friction—Uri hadn’t even taken off his jacket—but it didn’t feel like the old teenage workaround, it felt...

“Fuck, lemme—” Uri demanded suddenly pulling away. Thomas barely had time to react before Uri was going down. To his knees.

“Wh—” he started to ask, but Uri was already unhooking the button of his jeans and not only was the question moot, so were any possible objections. He thanked the gods he’d turned on the lights to see this: Uri's dark eyes looking up at him from under thick lashes were a sight he wouldn’t have minded photographing and placing right on his  bedroom wall.

“Let me,” Uri asked, voice rough but body gone still. Absolutely immobile, like he’d simply commanded himself to stop.

Thomas offered a shaky nod, feeling himself leak steadily into his shorts. Uri’s hands had lost their urgency, acquiring a steady, almost unnerving precision. He lowered the zip, then cupped Thomas’s engorged cock with tenderness that had an edge of teasing.

He inhaled sharply, struggling to stay still, and Uri leaned closed and press a kiss to the head. Thomas shivered hard and spread his feet to keep his balance. “Mmm... Yeah, like that,” Uri murmured, breathing it out right on the sensitive skin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he said, not exactly in response.

“Not quite,” Uri said, pulling the cloth down and letting Thomas’s dick spring free. He at least had the consideration of taking hold him by the hips to keep him from falling on his arse.

“You—”

“Sorry,” Uri said at once, and kissed him again in apology.

As apologies went, it was a hard one to turn down. Uri made it harder by licking up his shaft, slowly and visibly enjoying the taste of it... Thomas only noticed he’d swayed when the hands keeping him upright tightened painfully on his sides. He cleared his throat just as Uri reached the head and twirled his tongue around it, swallowing precome even as he glanced up.

Thomas just stared at him, brain not quite able to process the sight of his reddened lips stained with a pearly drop he’d missed. “Um, wall,” he managed to get out. It was meant to be a question, which Uri smirked about once he understood.

He shot to his feet to drag Thomas to the nearest vertical surface—a kitchen cabinet, not a wall—and then went back down, taking Thomas underwear and trousers with him.

He fumbled for the cabinet behind him, desperate for something to hold onto. He clutched at the handle on his right, bracing his elbow against the cold material of the cabinet door. He still didn’t feel all that steady when Uri tilted his head right and opened his mouth, sucking the head back into his hot, wet mouth. Thomas whimpered faintly—Uri was still holding onto his hip with one hand, but the other was caressing down his thigh, and just then it got between his legs and rolled his left ball between his fingers, gentle but firm. He exhaled, heart hammering in his throat as Uri rubbed his tongue against the underside of his cock and trailed a long finger behind his sack with frankly criminal coordination. _How did he…?_

He glanced down between his legs, but the image of Uri’s dark head bent over his groin didn’t help much and he lost control for a moment, thrusting into the warm heat of his lover’s mouth before he could stop himself. “Sorry,” he breathed out, braced for an interruption he was almost too turned on to bear.

But Uri didn’t stop, instead he sucked harder, leaving Thomas’s perineum alone and clutching at his arse cheek to shove him forward into it. He grunted, torn between blowjob protocol and what his partner was demanding. Then Uri pulled almost all the way out and slammed his mouth back onto his cock and he whited out. He must have, the next thing he knew was that he was deep enough to hit the back of Uri’s throat. He shoved in again and was sucked right in with a recklessness he’d never experienced in a partner—male or female—outside of fucking. Uri moaned around him, the vibrations of his vocal cords like electricity running up Thomas’s cock and straight to his balls, and he was coming—sudden, intense and endless.

It did end, or at least his brain managed to start keeping track of time again and he discovered Uri had swallowed the first load and had kept sucking, as if eager for more.

He closed his eyes, too overwhelmed by his firing nerves to watch.

This wasn’t cock-sucking, this was _worship_.

He didn’t think he could live up to it.

But he had to, he thought as he opened his eyes to see Uri licking his swollen lips as he got to his feet.

“That—” He had to stop and swallow; his mouth was dry as fuck, probably from panting like a dog in summer for the last… He wasn’t even sure how long it’d been. Forever, or an instant.

Uri seemed to take his speechlessness in stride and shut him up with another kiss—clearly a proven technique. But this wasn’t a peck, insofar as kisses were in a spectrum, this was as far from one as could be; wet and deep and salty and irresistible. Somehow, he’d gained access to the skin of Uri’s back and he’d seriously consider having his hands glued to it if it wouldn’t have prevented him from rubbing his fingertips over the light hair growing there.

Uri pulled back first and if his face hadn’t been burning up already, Thomas could have blushed that he’d been so distracted that he’d forgotten his partner hadn’t orgasmed yet.

“What…? What do you want?” he asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t be for him to return the favour. Not that he minded blowjobs, in fact, before today he’d have said he was really quite good at them, but he didn’t want his performance compared to this. At least not right away; Uri might not have given himself a blowjob—he tore his traitorous eyes from the man’s still covered middle as his brain started wondering if  he’d have the flexibility for it—but he had to have thought about the techniques a lot to get that good.

The other man’s face was guarded, his smirk was nowhere to be found and he actually looked… The answer hit Thomas like a stick to the face. “You want to fuck me?” It wasn’t quite a question, maybe because he already knew the answer.

Dark eyes widened and Uri’s spine straightened at once, putting a little more distance between them despite Thomas’s around him. “I….”

“What? Like I mind getting another turn?” Thomas teased him. Some guys were weird about fucking, although he couldn’t imagine why—it wasn’t like beta men could get pregnant, so why would having a cock up your arse matter beyond whether you enjoyed prostate stimulation? Unless…

“You like it?” Uri asked, his voice a little rough. From taking his cock.

It took Thomas a moment to find neurons that would obey enough to allow him to make his mouth move. “You bet, if you are half as good at fucking as you’re at sucking cock…”

Uri snorted, and gods above and below, he was blushing like a schoolboy questioned about a crush. There was something a little insane about a guy who could blow him so expertly getting all shy about his prowess. “I guess you’re about to find out,” he said almost off-handily—except Thomas could _tell_ he was nervous.

“Yeah, okay, lube is in my bedroom, so you’re about to get your wish about safe sex.”

“I didn’t say anything about safe,” Uri replied, following him down the corridor. “Just stable enough we don’t die _before_ it’s over.”

“Oh, gods.” He turned to give him a horrified look, then took off his shirt and dropped it on the desk chair. “Is that a French pun?”

“What?” Uri asked, averting his gaze before continuing, “Didn’t you take it in school?”

Thomas felt a little guilty, but if the guy insisted on proving he was immune to blue balls... He toed off his shoes, then bent sideways to get rid of his socks. “You mean to tell me your school taught you about _la petite mort_?” he asked, then dropped his trousers down his legs.

Uri's silence was almost palpable.

Thomas smiled at him, enjoying the very obvious bulge in his trousers. “You want something?”

It was the wrong thing to say, or the best, Thomas thought as Uri stepped up to him and pushed him bodily onto the bed. Thomas could have resisted, but he didn’t exactly mind the heavy weight of a man on top of him—fully dressed while he was almost naked. Uri would have to undress if he wanted to get his cock in him, but Thomas was happy to indulge him if he wanted to rub off against him instead. Or just as an entrant. They had all night, after all.

Thomas arched under him, sucking on his tongue as he got kissed to within an inch of his life and bending his knee to press against Uri’s still trapped cock. Uri grunted into the kiss, turning his head to the side to pant hotly against Thomas’s neck. Thomas didn’t waste time, twisting his hips until he could roll on top. Uri was still blinking up in shock by the time Thomas got his trousers unbuttoned. He started on the shirt.

“I’m not fucking you in the suit,” he warned. “Well, not this time,” he clarified. He could see how the formalwear could give things a bit of an edge. Even without going into role playing, Uri looked hot as hell in it. The man laughed under him and Thomas pushed the shirt open, caressing his pecs, thumbs flicking his hard nipples hard enough to make him shudder. “Okay, I’ve done all the hard work. Get rid of them,” he instructed, rolling off the bed and going for his bedside table where he kept his supplies.

He heard movement behind him, but he was focused on finding the best brand of lube so he almost jumped when a warm body pressed close from behind, a strong arm coming to rest around his waist. He could feel Uri’s erection poking him in the buttocks, bare now, but it was the wet mouth sucking on his earlobe that made him lose control of his own muscles and drop the condom back into the drawer to lean back into the embrace, body burning up again like he hadn’t come hard enough to lose consciousness less than fifteen minutes earlier. Uri could probably figure out what the noises coming out of his mouth meant because his other hand travelled down Thomas’s stomach, detouring a little to tangle in his happy trail before getting to his boxers and tugging them down once more.

Thomas moaned as his dick, still sensitive but newly hard, was hit by the cold air of the room. Uri slid his hand lower and took hold of him; he didn’t stroke, just gripped him hard enough to straddle the line between pleasure and pain. Thomas reached back for his arm, digging his nails into it and pulling—he’d have begged, if words had been possible past the desperate beating of his heart, echoed in his throbbing cock in Uri’s grip.

“You want something?” Uri asked into his ear, and it took Thomas a whole thirty seconds of trying to push into his hand to realise he was being teased. He could have broken the hold, instead he shoved his bare arse against Uri’s erection.

Uri growled, then leaned sideways to snatch the lube out of the drawer and let go of Thomas cock to pour half the bottle into his cupped palm. He’d asked for a surface that wouldn’t get them killed before they got to come, but apparently he had a weakness for vertical ones because he crowded him forward until Thomas had to put his hands to the wall or faceplant into it. His hole twitched as he felt Uri’s hands on his buttocks and he shoved back into them until he felt Uri’s thick fingers skim against the sensitive skin. “Come _on_ ,” he demanded.

Uri pressed the tip of one finger against the puckered skin, sending a jolt through of pleasure through him that had him whimpering. He was surprised to feel the man pressed himself against his flank even as his hand kept working to open him up—not that he could blame him for needing a little relief for the erection he’d been sporting for going on half an hour.

One fingertip caught at the rim, then withdrew for more lube before pushing in against, this time up to the second knuckle. Thomas tossed his head, struggling for more and held still by Uri’s iron grip around his chest. He opened his mouth; to beg, or complain, or… And Uri pushed two fingers fully inside and fucked into him with two quick jabs that silenced any coherent part of Thomas’s brain. More fingers followed while he was still trembling from the sensation of having his prostate stimulated so abruptly and intensely.

“Condom,” Uri panted—for the first time, he sounded like a man about to break.

Of course, he’d already broken Thomas’ capacity for speech. He blindly reached for the drawer until he found a little foil package, then bit the corner off and passed it over. Uri took it from him, but he must have been a champion at putting it on because only moments later he was pushing Thomas’s hand back against the wall and pressing close again, his heavy erection burning even through the silicone.

It felt even hotter between his legs but he pushed his arse out anyway—the reward was swift; Uri positioned himself and pressed in, steady and unstoppable, stretching him a little too much, then pausing. He was a big guy and Thomas had to breathe in as he was opened up, concentrating on reminding his body of what it was capable. He hadn’t been fucked in a while—work had got quite intense since Carry had been moved to their line and, entertaining as the drama could be, it meant Thomas hadn’t had much time for sex.

He exhaled slowly as he took another inch. “Okay?” Uri murmured, his own voice straining almost to the point of breaking.

He nodded, then swallowed. “Been a while,” he explained. The other man stilled behind him. _Inside him._ And dammit the guy had self-control... It was almost unbearable. Thomas clenched around the length inside him and smiled when Uri huffed out a breath like it’d been punched out of him.

He still didn’t move.

“ _More_ ,” he demanded, with his voice and body both, pushing closer.

Apparently ‘please’ wasn’t the only magic word; it was like he’d unlocked something in his partner because he pulled out and he didn’t simply enter Thomas again; he _shoved_ in, like he was taking everything at once, like he couldn’t hold back a second longer. His hips snapped in harder the second time, like he’d truly lost control, and Thomas shuddered hard under him—the edge of too much only adding to the ecstasy of almost enough. It felt like each thrust sent him a little closer, but he wasn’t able to take his hands off the wall to touch himself. And then a particularly hard push made his left elbow give, his forearm hit the wall with a thump that made him wince. But it was a blessing in disguise because while he couldn’t hold himself one handed, he could certainly support his weight if he put half his bent arm between his head and the wall. Uri’s pace had slowed a little, his hips circling instead of shoving, and Thomas felt the hand around his waist caressing his middle in what he thought was either an apology or a question. “I’m good,” he mumbled, and Uri hummed and pressed his face to the back of his neck with a happy sigh even as his pace sped up again.

It was a little less forceful and a little more careful, which meant he was getting _deep_. Thomas sighed, feeling almost like he was getting a massage—his prostate certainly was—even as his cock bounced with each languorous penetration. He laughed when he realised he’d forgotten why he needed to free his hand. Uri made an inquiring noise, not interrupting the torturously perfect rhythm of his pistoning hips. And suddenly it seemed perfectly obvious that he _didn't_ need his hand; he needed _Uri's_. "Touch me," he asked, his voice raspy and used like he'd...

The man holding him startled a little, then lowered his right hand and took hold of Thomas's erection once more, petting it gently and making him shudder with the dual sensations inside and outside him. He groaned, letting his head fall forward and arching into the next languorous, luxurious thrust. Maybe Uri read it as the submission he'd been trying to tease out of him because his hold tightened and he started masturbating him in earnest—perfectly in sync with his own cock entering Thomas's body. Almost like he was jerking himself off instead... Thomas sighed happily as Uri hit his sweet spot right when his hand reached the crown of his cock. He was sweating, the burnt no longer alleviated by Uri's touch, and he couldn't last. He did not; the moment Uri tightened his hold around his waist and cock both, he fell right off the edge like he'd been shoved over. He made a right mess of the wall in front of him and he suspected also of his lover's hand, but neither the hand nor the cock stopped their perfect rhythm. Thomas slumped forward, only keeping his feet because the man behind him forced him to. He was barely awake enough to clench hard against the penetration, arse spasming in retribution in sweet overstimulation.

It was too much, but he liked... Uri pressed inside once more and stilled, spilling deep within in perfect immobility, almost like— A sudden burst of pain on his arm made him straighten, pushing him back into his lover, still trembling from the aftereffects of his own orgasm.

And, dammit, he couldn't believe he'd missed the chance to look him in the face while he came... Uri's arms tightened, now both around his waist once again, and Thomas almost spoke an objection, but it was only a moment before his lover stepped back and withdrew, his great length leaving him feeling strangely empty.

He closed his eyes to centre himself and found himself wondering how painful he'd find it to skate the next day. He heard Uri open the door to the ensuite bathroom door the click of the bin reacting to a human waving at it. The condom, of course.

And if the previous nerves were anything to go by, he didn't have long before the best fuck he could remember walked right out his door.

Not that he expected much from a stranger he'd picked up at a children's concert, naturally, but he didn't want to keep wondering what the guy would look like when he... well, died a little.

“Merci per la petite mort,” he said, turning around on wobbly legs. He leaned against the wall, careless of the mess.

Uri was back in the bedroom with a wet towel in his hand, which he'd clearly intended to offer to Thomas.

He waved it away. "Let's just shower; you won't believe the jets in here."

Uri hesitated, but finally commented, “I can’t believe you were making fun of me, your accent sounds native!”

“I notice you didn’t answer the question of where you learned it yourself, counsellor.” He led the way into the bathroom and set to programming the bathtub—he had water restrictions like everyone else, of course, but there was nothing quite like a hot soak when you worked your muscles to exhaustion almost every day. It wasn’t like had anything better to do with the money the team saved him on rent and most of the time he travelled enough that if he exceeded his personal quota, it was by very little.

“An old friend taught me the more colourful stuff,” Uri finally told him. Thomas didn’t ask but it seemed clear this was the kind of friend who might have taught him in contextually appropriate circumstances.

“Come in, sit down for a minute; it fills up quick.” He rummaged under the sink for some salts and dropped them in the water, making it bubble. He checked on Uri, who wasn’t running away and who hadn’t asked about the bathtub in a flat for an able bodied adult. “My father has business in Toulouse,” he explained. “So he made Colleen and me attend La academie Françe.”

If he’d thought Uri would be slowed down by either the orgasms or the open display of luxury, he was very much mistaken. He was leaning back on the cistern and his raised eyebrows would have probably expressed his disbelief in sonnet form without a single word said. “And they taught you about sex metaphors there, of course.”

Thomas turned to face him, exposing his body and enjoying the way it drew the other man’s gaze. “Well, it wasn’t in class, but technically...”

“I see,” Uri said, looking strangely smug. “Well, when I tell you this, I don’t mean it technically but literally: if you don’t turn the water off now, it’ll overflow when we get in.”

“Dammit!” Thomas almost fell in his hurry to reach the controls. Once the water had stopped flowing, he turned to glare at his guest. “Couldn’t you have told me earlier?”

Uri got to his feet and shrugged, the impossible elegance of his body so arresting that Thomas forgot to be mad. Dark hair curled on his chest, making Thomas’s fingers it to touch.

“You’re gonna get in?” Uri asked, eyes bright with mischief.

It hadn’t been a coincidence, Thomas realised, but a response to his question. He shook his head at him, then stepped aside and extended an inviting arm towards the water. “Guests first.”

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

#  Chapter Four: Uriel

Uri hadn’t meant to linger. But he was only human and when the gorgeous guy who’d picked you up in the place you least expected and then made you laugh and blush before letting you fuck his brains out while making noises like he was begging you for it…Well, when that guy got into a bloody _Jacuzzi_ and casually asked you to sit between his spread legs, you did not walk away.

He hadn’t even realised how sore he was until the jets of water started hitting his upper arms and he groaned and almost slipped underwater before Thomas tugged him back up, chuckling. “Careful there.”

“Ugh,” Uri mostly sighed. “Why do you even have a bathtub one can drown in?”

“Came—”

He started laughing before Thomas could finish. “Did they just pick you up and put you in a dollhouse?” he asked, leaning his head back against Thomas well-turned shoulder—it was a little hard but his neck was mostly underwater so there wasn’t a lot of weigh to support.

Thomas’s knees tightened around him and Uri startled a little. It was an odd sensation to be surrounded like that, he didn’t think he’d ever been with a lover bigger than he was. “You have some balls, don’t you? Dissing me when you have your neck exposed like this…” To prove his point, he bit Uri’s ear, hard enough for the sensation to linger after he let go and kissed the side of his neck.

Uri shuddered hard, brain torn between the dual signals of arousal and threat. He couldn’t—

“Wow,” Thomas whispered, rubbing his hip. “You’re sensitive.”

He shook his head, more to dispel the effects of the heat than to answer; he didn’t understand why it’d hit him so hard. He was supposed to… Why would he suddenly like someone putting their mouth to his neck like… Thomas sat up straighter, pulling Uri towards him so he’d sit as well, and only when Thomas knee bumped his own did Uri notice he was hard again. Then his arse was firmly pressed against Thomas’s own groin and it was very clear the interest was mutual.

He turned his torso as much as he could manage to look him in the face. It was all it took; he felt the tension going out of the other man as clearly as if the bad spirits where visibly draining into the water. He must have been worried, Uri realised. He offered a tentative smile.

“You like that?” the beta asked. There was nothing behind it, no teasing or mocking, no… expectations. Because Thomas didn’t know he was an alpha, so he didn’t expect Uri to like anything in particular beyond what felt good on human skin. It was almost as much of a rush as the kiss had been.

“Yeah,” he said. It was easy to admit, body well sated, interested in more but than happy to wait for it. “Only thing missing is the champagne,” he joked.

It wasn’t a great joke, but it wasn’t bad enough for Thomas to look away. “Um, if... You can’t laugh, okay?” he said and, as Uri blinked at him, he started fumbling with the side of the bathtub. The click was loud enough to be heard even with the jets still rushing around them.

Uri straightened further, turning further to lean over the side. There was a bloody _compartment_ on the side of the Jacuzzi.

No, a _mini-fridge_. “If you tell me the champagne came with the flat,” he warned, meeting Thomas’s eyes. “I’m leaving.”

“No champagne,” Thomas said quickly. “Just...” He leaned over the side to peer inside, water sliding down his torso like the luckiest cascade in existence. For all his teasing, he had seemingly forgotten he was a very distracting sight naked. Uri hardly could. “Beer, and apple juice,” he concluded.

“Apple juice,” Uri repeated, which was taken as a request until Thomas straightened with the bottle in hand and saw his face. Uri took it off him—his mouth was getting dryer by the minute and anything that cooled him down was welcome. “Why do you have apple juice of all things?” he asked Thomas before taking a swig.

“My sisters,” he said simply, like that was all the explanation required. Then again, he’d been at the concert, even though one of the first things he’d admitted about himself was that he didn’t see eye to eye with his parents. Maybe that was exactly why Thomas felt protective of his sisters, still stuck at home and forced to follow rules Thomas himself had chaffed against. It wasn’t something Uri could quite understand; David was only a few months older than Uri and to all intents and purposes, they’d always been equals—they’d been friends all their lives, loyal to a fault. But ultimately, they’d had their mothers supporting them—it had never been up to Uriel to save David. Or vice versa. Not even the territorial instincts that came with being an alpha had changed that; there were simply no circumstances that called for it.

Uri licked his lips, well aware of being watched. Turnabout was fair play, though, so he met Thomas’s eyes and took a long swallow, enjoying the sweet coolness in his mouth and throat.

He liked the way Thomas’s eyes had almost no green left in them when he was done even more. “Don’t forget to buy more,” he advised. His pretence of calm was impossibly to really sell; now that he was half turned towards him, all the beta had to do was look down to see the evidence of Uri’s very keen interest.

“Had enough?”

“Mmm... yeah. Want some?” he returned, not quite able to keep the smile back.

“Yes,” Thomas told him, completely shameless.

His sincerity was almost as disarming as his looks. Uri silently handed the bottle back. Thomas put it down somewhere but didn’t take long enough to have bothered to put it back in the mini-fridge. They were probably going to step on it when they got out, Uri thought, even as he stretched his neck uncomfortably to push their mouths back together.

Thomas groaned against his lips, his left hand gripping Uri’s arm to keep him in position as Thomas dipped his tongue into his mouth. It was Uri who was twisted into a ridiculous position—one knee bent, the other leg straight, torso like a half-made ringlet—but Thomas pulled away first. “I want to feel you,” he explained. “Turn around.”

Uri was contemplating the logistics of getting to his knees when Thomas tugged him the opposite way instead, pressing his back against Thomas’s front and holding him close. Uri shuddered at the erection poking him in his lower back, leaning into the touch by pure instinct. Thomas was solid and warm, and... “Yeah,” he whispered into Uri’s ear. “Let me...” His hand slid down Uri’s front and took hold of his weeping cock in the warm water, the strength of his grip was a relief so intense it had Uri arching into the touch. Thomas caressed Uri’s cock, getting to the head and swiping his thumb softly over the head. He didn’t comment on the lack of foreskin, but he touched a little hesitantly the first time, then tried a little harder when Uri just squirmed for more. “Like that?” came the question, and then Thomas actually licked the side of his neck and Uri’s hips snapped forward of their own volition.

He didn’t understand, but Thomas didn’t ask, just did it again. When his other hand sneaked under Uri’s bottom and pushed up his thigh to reach his sack, Uri almost came on the spot, shuddering so hard his lover stopped his movements to just grip him hard by cock and leg. Uri let his head fall back onto his shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as his brain tried to deal with everything he was feeling.

Thomas exhaled noisily next to his ear. He was burning up under Uri—possibly the hot water, possibly just his own body working overtime. He slowly slid his hand down Uri’s cock again, then rubbed the tips of his fingers against his balls and perineum. It wasn’t an area his previous lovers had paid particular attention to; it turned out they’d been wrong not to. It felt... electrifying. It wasn’t the overwhelming pleasure of his cock or sack, but a progressive, almost suspenseful awakening of nerves that had been long neglected.

He hadn’t thought he... He lost the thought as Thomas tentatively pushed his own hips forward against Uri’s back. Only when he dug his nails into Thomas’s arms around him did Uri noticed he’d been holding onto his lover’s forearms the whole time. Thomas let out a low whimpering noise right by his left ear that made Uri’s hips shove into his fist hard enough to almost dislodge his grip.

Thomas laughed a little, breathless and a struggling to keep them balanced. “Hold onto the side of the tub,” he asked.

Uri managed to obey, which was fortunate because Thomas’s next move was to abandon his arse and take firm hold of his waist to pull him higher. When he thrust again, his dick slid against Uri’s crack at the same time his hand tightened and expertly rubbed at the head of Uri’s own cock.

He squeezed his eyes shut, arching into it—both the hand and the hot slick skin of the other man’s member against the hypersensitive area between his arse cheeks.

And just like that, it was over. Thomas kept hold of him as his climax rushed through him like a wave—implacable and unstoppable—and somehow managed to keep them both afloat.

Uri opened his eyes and closed them again, somehow the artificial light of the bathroom was too harsh on his eyes after his brain had been all but fried. He tilted his head to the side, slowly becoming aware of where his limbs were.

They were all still attached, even his cock, floating in the hot water that felt like a little too much at the moment. He only realised he was gripping Thomas’s arm hard enough to hurt him when the man shifted under him and the movement pulled at his nails. He snatched his hand away, turning to the right to check. There were five half moon circles embedded into Thomas’s pale skin—all of them reddened, one of them bloody.

Uri’s brain snapped to attention like he'd been plugged in. "Fuck, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

Thomas’s arm around him pressed them closer together. “You can make it up to me?” he said, voice strained.

He was still hard. He had to be very close to finishing, but he’d stopped trying to get off the minute Uri had.

He could have let him rub off against him, but suddenly he couldn’t bear to miss the look on his face. He’d only seen it once and he was already addicted. When he turned in his arms, Thomas let go, spreading his legs to give him room, and a moment later Uri was sitting back on his own feet and had Thomas’s beautiful cock in his grip, his other hand tangled in Thomas’s damp blond hair to drag him into a kiss.

Thomas opened up to it like he was starving, arching into every point of contact, starved for touch like no one had touched him in years, instead of minutes. Uri plastered himself as close as possible while still stroking his cock—hot and silky and twitching on the upstroke. He must have been doing something right because Thomas’s writhing came to an abrupt halt as he forgot himself and bit down hard on his own bottom lip, a pained agonized sound escaping anyway as he clenched his eyes shut as his dick pulsed and started filling the space between them with spunk. He kept hold of Uri by his shoulders, scrabbling a little as he chased the last few drops of pleasure. Then he went limp with relief. Uri sat back, loosening his grip and absently running his hand under the water to get it mostly clean—all the while he didn’t look away from Thomas’s face. His neck was exposed, a beautiful arch begging to be licked, bitten—

He quickly glanced away, then shuffled back until he could put his back to the other side of the mini pool. By the time he looked up, Thomas was sleepily blinking his eyes open and offering him a satisfied smile that got his spent cock twitching.

The beta lowered his gaze, then met Uri’s and raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

And, of course, even in a bathtub with their shared release floating between them, Uri couldn’t keep from blushing.

 

&

 

Sleeping over wasn’t a big deal. Thomas had offered, understandably given how late it was when they were done showering after their languorous float in. Uriel had to be up early—going to the concert had already been a bit of an indulgence—so he should have checked the time for the next night bus and jetted his way home. But he'd been tired, and more than that, pleasantly drowsy after more orgasms than he'd bothered with in a long time...

"You want a shirt to sleep in?" Thomas had offered. He was blinking a lot to keep his eyes open, which made Uri want to tuck him into his gigantic bed and kiss him goodnight.

"No," he said.

Thomas was already halfway turned to his bedside table before he processed the words—before they both processed them, really. "No?" Thomas repeated, turning back with a smile slowly taking over his face. "Well..." His eyes slid up Uri's torso until their gazes held. "I guess I'll live."

Uri put a knee down on the bed a little cautiously, half expecting to be kissed and fairly sure he wouldn't resist. But Thomas just threw the covers back and extended an arm in invitation.

He'd been right; he didn't resist. He was pressed against Thomas's bare chest before he could think better of it. And, dammit, why _should_ he think better of it? Maybe this wasn't— What it wasn't, but there was no rule that said tenderness was forbidden between casual partners; they'd given each other pleasure, and now they were giving each other the precious comfort of human touch.

Thomas sighed into his hair, tugging him infinitesimally closer. And Uri closed his eyes and relaxed into the warmth and safety of another living body keeping the night at bay.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting another chapter tonight in honour me FINISHING THE FUCKING FIRST DRAFT *dies*   
> Please let me know what you like and what you *don't*, still have time to fix it if you tell me now :D Any burning questions you got are also great to know in case I forgot to address them!

#  Chapter Five: Thomas

Thomas was an idiot; there was no way around it.

When he’d done it, he had thought that it was just daring enough to be charming without crossing the line into… well, stalking. Now, in the cold light of morning—well, noon, because his companion had rolled off bed so quietly he’d slept through it—it seemed less like an inspired romantic gesture and more like a completely pointless one.

He’d entered his number into Uri’s phone while the other man had been showering, sure, but he hadn’t told him about it, so how was the guy meant to know he could call if he wanted? The night before, loopy on endorphins and eating a pre-made meal in their underwear, it’d seemed like the kind of thing he could mention at any time. But they’d eventually grown sleepy and once Uri had agreed to settle under his arm, Thomas hadn’t wanted to risk speaking for fear that he’d make up a reason to leave.

He was pretty sure Uri didn’t _want_ to leave—no way was Thomas imagining their banter, or their insane sexual chemistry—but he’d been getting the impression the man thought _he should_. He probably didn’t pick up strangers on the basis of a single conversation that often. He had to get offers by the bucketload, what with the pretty eyes and the amazing arse, but the equally enticing blushing gave away his inexperience in that area. He probably just told them he was too busy saving some orphans, which could have made him something of a dick, really, but Uri didn’t seem to be judging anyone else for their own contributions to society, he simply needed to do what he needed to do. He wasn’t proud of it any more than he was proud of his looks, if anything he acted like spending time helping others was an eccentric preference he had to be excused for. Thomas closed his eyes, swallowing as he remembered the sight of his hand around Uri’s straining cock, almost as good as the soft, slippery skin of Uri’s back against his own erection. Or Uri’s dark eyelashes fanning against his cheekbones as he sucked Thomas’s cock like he could never get enough.

He rubbed at himself, not sure if he’d woken up hard or if he’d turned himself on reminiscing about the previous night. Not that it mattered; he wasn’t going to last long either way. He wanted… Dammit, he’d wanted a morning blowjob—one more chance just to check he hadn’t hallucinated the one against the wall, maybe. And he wanted to return the favour, too, even if he didn’t manage the level of expertise Uri had demonstrated to be adept at. And…

And he wanted to get _fucked_ again. Hard and thorough and… He could still _feel it_ , deep inside as he clenched with every thrust. He wouldn’t have minded feeling it a little more even, a little twinge of pain on top of the soreness to contrast with the shivering pleasure of his hand on his cock.

Or Uri’s tongue… He sped up, almost able to recall the sweet sensation of being sucked dry, and just like that he was adding a little more to the mess they’d made of the bed. He panted at the ceiling, brain reeling despite the relief.

He’d fucked up, he realised with a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He’d blown his chance.

 

&

 

Romantic woes or not, he still had to made it to afternoon practice. He loved his team and the new line configuration the coaches had decided on could outperform any he’d experienced.

It probably had something with the fact that their left-winger, Cartwight Johnson, was an omega and their centre, Keenan Avali, was an alpha. Thomas was keeping those thoughts where they belonged, but he could hardly miss that his linemates needed him to act as go between for most of their conversations, but could pass to each other like they had eyes on the back of their helmets.

He didn’t really mind playing interpreter, and Uri had guessed right that he went to most optional practices anyway. But now he felt a little responsible for their well-being; if he wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure they’d know how to talk to each other, even about hockey.

He didn’t want anyone—well, omegas—discriminated against, of course, but he still had to wonder what the coaches had been thinking to put them on the _same line_. Could they have known they’d play this well together? Or was that a happy coincidence and the awkwardness between Carry and Keenan the price they were all willing to pay for scoring?

Thomas was certainly willing to put up with it if it meant he got to play hockey that was more like a choreographed danced than an improvised game. It was still exciting, of course, but there was a deliberateness to their plays he found intoxicating, like they had tapped on some underlying force pushing them around and learned to control it. It was a bit like magic.

Maybe he was a little bit of a workaholic, so what? He had the best job in the world, why shouldn’t he love it?

"Hey," he told Carry, taking the seat by his side. Carry looked up to offer a weak smile—the boy was shy to a fault, or maybe that wasn't quite right... _Uri_ was shy, Carry was reserved. Like he'd put up a barrier between himself and the world. "How're you doing?"

Carry lifted his head and turned to look at him, not meeting his eyes for long because that wasn't something Carry did—not unless you'd messed up a manoeuvre enough to piss him off—but he'd definitely noticed something. "You sound... did something happen?"

Thomas laughed, embarrassed and pleased both. He shoved on his shoulder pads, looking down to secure them for the first time in years. "I had a late night," he explained. "Overslept."

"You... Oh," Carry said softly. "You had a—" He cut himself off, audibly swallowing. "That's nice."

This last was said with some effort and Thomas's insides twisted when he understood why; Carry wasn't allowed to have nice nights. Omegas weren't supposed to have sex before they bonded, at least not with alphas. Sex with betas was overlooked, but Thomas couldn't imagine it felt like enough—like being shown a steak and then being offered a salad as compensation. "It was nice," he agreed, "But I fucked it up."

That picked his linemate’s curiousity. "How?"

Thomas shrugged. At least his stupidity could make Carry feel a little better about his own situation. "I didn't get his number. I... I put mine in his phone, but then I forgot to tell him."

He expected a snort and to be called an idiot, but Carry hummed thoughtfully and asked, "Did you tell him who you were?"

"What?"

"Did you tell him your full name? That you played hockey? Your team?"

"Er... I... I told him my first name, not... I don't think I told him the team's name. I said I played hockey professionally," he added, feeling all the more idiotic for Carry's lack of criticism.

"Well, we're local," Carry pointed out. "If he wants to find you, he can try looking up our rooster."

And then, like a bucket of cold water, Thomas remembered _Uri_ had given him key information—he volunteered at the local adoption centre in Peckham. Except of course he couldn't show up at an adoption centre to see if... "But he won't know I _want_ him to call me," he told Carry. "That was kind of the point of giving him my number."

"Why wouldn't you want him to call you?" The omega asked slowly. "You obviously had a nice night—"

"Okay, people!" Sven clapped to get their attention and Thomas bit his tongue on his answer.

It was time to get to work.

 

&

 

Except work _didn’t_ work. Normally, Thomas hit the ice and forgot the world outside existed.

Today, the outside world was clearly intruding.

Damn all the gods above and beyond, he’d missed _one practice_. But one practice without him was apparently all it took for Keenan and Carry to misplace their amazing synchronicity. He stopped again, this time next to Keenan. “What’s going on?” he demanded, doing his best to keep his voice low.

Keenan huffed, straightening his posture only to let his shoulders drop. “No idea.”

“Did something happen this morning?” he insisted.

“No.” Keenan shrugged. “We missed you, sure, but…”

“Were you playing like this?”

“We were doing drills, mostly, and then… We practiced passes, it was okay.”

“Okay,” Thomas repeated, more of an intention than an affirmation. Things were most definitely not okay, and they had a game coming, too. “Just… try and keep track of Carry, will you? It’s like you have forgotten he exists or something.”

He didn’t stick around to hear Keenan’s objections, just went back to his position, nodding at Mike to signal he could go ahead with the face-off.

Keenan won it, so it wasn’t like he’d lost all of his hockey skills.

It didn’t do them much good; his centre still got his passes—mostly—but he was missing Carry’s so consistently it wasn’t hard for their opposing line to overwhelm them. Not to mention the way Carry was getting visibly angrier every time one of his passes was missed and making mistakes of his own. Keenan must have noticed because for all that he wasn’t looking at Carry when he had the puck, he was stealing nervous looks afterwards. The idiot.

Everyone noticed, of course, and then things got really awkward when Sven took Carry aside for a private conversation. Thomas didn’t need to be able to smell either of them to tell Carry wasn’t enjoying the conversation.

Keenan, standing by his side like he’d been frozen solid, was clearly eavesdropping—Thomas thought the distance wasn’t too great for an alpha nose. And he couldn’t explain his constipated expression otherwise.

“You okay—?” he started to say, when Carry turned around and flew at Keenan, stopping in a cloud of ice dust.

“Avali,” he said, more demand than acknowledgment. “Let’s practice.”

Keenan followed him like he’d got a hook right into his mouth. Thomas blinked at the scene. If anything, he’d assumed the two of them didn’t talk because Keenan didn’t want to give Carry orders... What in Hades was going on?

“These two,” Sven muttered, startling him a little.

“So that isn’t...?” Thomas waved a little to indicate the whole situation.

“Don’t ask,” his captain replied a little sharply, then quickly apologized, “I just mean, I don’t know what’s going on.”

Thomas sighed. “That makes two of us. Guess that’ll teach me to skip practice.”

Sven tsked, leading the way out of the ice. “Don’t you start, it was optional. You should rest sometimes, rookie. Can’t play non-stop. There’s other things in life, you know?”

He laughed, perhaps a little bitterly, but Sven was a nice guy and he didn’t press him when Thomas shook his head in response to his raised eyebrows. “I’m not very good at other things,” he explained.

“Maybe you just need more practice,” Sven pointed out, holding the changing room door open.

And fuck him, because he was right. What kind of idiot let a man like Uriel walk out of their life like that?

 

&

 

He couldn’t do much about Uri, at least nothing that wasn’t a little creepy, but he could go shopping before his sisters arrived for their visit. It’d be a lot of food, even Colleen and Valentina weren’t staying over—he had a guest room and if they’d brought a sleeping bag, they could all actually stay, but they’d discovered that with no one left in the house, their parents tended to take even more of an interest in what they were doing outside it.

Colleen had a project of her own to work on, anyway, something about bilingualism that Thomas had promised she could present to him as practice before doing it for her class. He didn’t see why she was so worried, she had always been amazing at languages—her French progressing fast enough they’d finished the academy courses on the same year despite her being two years younger—and she definitely knew how to charm a room.

Not that it mattered, if she wanted his help, she got it.

He picked an extra bag of gluten-free chocolate cookies for Grace, then realised there was no way he could get by with just his arms and awkwardly wobbled to the till to find a basket. The cashier gave him an amused look he thought might have been half flirtation. He shrugged, silently admitting he was a dork and turned back with the basket in hand. He still needed eggs for breakfast…

By the time he’d put away all the groceries, he was too tired to make dinner so he took one of the perfectly balanced meals the team had a food service make for them all. If he hadn’t wanted a little more variety, he could have spent the rest of his life without cooking except when he had visits, but his dedication to hockey didn’t go as far as giving up chocolate cake.

“ _Nice_ ,” Val told him as soon as she opened his fridge the next afternoon. She got the pack of grapes he’d bought for her and shoved two into her mouth, Thomas and the other girls liked to teased her that she was going to be six feet tall if the way she ate was any indication.

“Really?” Colleen asked walking into the room with her empty glass. “We _just_ had lunch.”

Thomas poured her some of the apple juice since he was already holding the bottle. It did _not_ remind him of anyone but them.

“Thomas?”

“What?” he asked, realising he must have missed something when his sisters shared a bemused look.

Colleen raised an eyebrow. “You alright? You were in another century altogether.”

He laughed at the way she’d used their grandmother’s accent and saying. “I’m good, just distracted. You guys wanna finish the movie before Eira and Grace come back and make us watch something educational?”

“Ugh, yeah,” Colleen agreed. “If I never have to watch another video of surgery, I’ll die happy.”

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of posting a chapter a day until I run out, what do you think? Too much?

#  Chapter Six: Uriel

Uri wasn't going to do anything with it, but he was curious. He'd always been curious, that was why he'd done well in school, really. That and David's excellent grades to compete against—if his brother hadn't decanted for the sciences when Uri had chosen the arts, he'd have probably ended up with a P.H.D before he'd have realised there was nothing to win other than knowledge itself.

It was his lunch break, which he normally worked through like the workaholic Thomas had guessed him to be. But all work and no play made for a great recipe for burning out, Esti insisted.

Of course, Esti had probably come up with the saying for Ruth’s sake alone, and Ruth normally said that reading philosophy books wasn’t work _for her_.

But everything felt like work to Uri today. Except typing ‘London hockey team’ into the search engine.

The engine helpfully reminded him that his local team was called the ‘Hell Flames’, he could just about imagine Thomas’s indignation if he found out…

The photo of the team loaded almost too fast and left him squinting for blond hair. There was more than one light-haired player but he zoned into the right face almost at once despite the low quality of the image. Zooming in hindered more than helped identification but it didn’t matter, something about the posture of the man’s body just... He found out the list of names next.

Thomas Kiau.

Could that be right...? He pasted the name onto the search engine and waited.

His heart stuttered when the dimples and bright green eyes cleared up. Dammit, he was beautiful.

He clicked the window shut, staring at his abandoned sandwich to resist re-opening it.

He knew he was being ridiculous; he’d spent a few hours with the man, this reaction was completely disproportionate.

It’d pass soon enough, he knew. He’d only slept with a stranger once before—a disappointing experience—and he hadn’t had sex with anyone for too long, clearly, if he could develop such intense emotions over such a short period of time.

It’d pass.

But he could write down the name. He tended to forget names even when they weren’t as strange as ‘Kiau’ and even if looking him up had been easy... He thought about emailing himself, but that would leave an email in his outbox that had nothing to do with work. Paper he was sure to lose, so he took out his phone instead, created a new profile and filled it out. Because he was an inveterate perfectionist, he ended up opening the search engine again to check the spelling. Then he saved it.

And then he checked he’d saved it properly.

But there were two ‘Thomas Kiau’ in his contacts. How...? He opened the one of top, then almost choked on air when he saw there was a number there.

A mobile.

“Uriel?” he fumbled and dropped his phone, with such bad luck that it fell on his lap but slid right onto the floor anyway.

He barely bit back a swear word in front of one of the firm’s partners. “Mx Yave?” he asked as solicitously as he could manage when he could barely breathe through his hammering pulse.

“Oh, you’re having lunch,” his boss said with an apologetic smile. “Never mind, come by my office when you’re done?”

Uri was fairly certain Mx Yave meant it, but there was no way he’d be able to eat the remaining half of his sandwich, and if he _had_ broken his phone after finding Thomas’s number on it... Well, he didn’t think he would be in the right state of mind to listen to a work proposal afterwards.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I can come now.”

“Eager as usual,” Mx Yave commented, teasing but approving. Company policy or not, they were all here to work their arses off—you didn’t make it into one of the top firms in London taking long lunch breaks, that was for sure.

Uriel got to his feet, careful to slide his chair backwards so as not to knock on the phone. He didn’t pick it up, though; if it wasn’t…

“Should I take notes?” he asked, even as he picked up a yellow pad and his favourite pen—a heavy stylographic his mothers had given him as a graduation present.

Mx Yave gave a complacent nod. “You’ll like this one,” he promised, waiting until Uri was by his side before starting for his office.

 

&

 

Because fate liked playing with people, once Mx Yave dismissed him, he ran into Jun on his way out of his boss’s office. “Hey,” he greeted, starting to sidestep.

But Jun’s presence was apparently no coincidence, he reached out and squeezed Uri’s arm—a gesture that might lingered longer if he hadn’t been an alpha, Uri suspected. Not that Jun had particular reason to remember Uri’s orientation—he looked willowy and delicate, the ideal of the male omega, but he was a beta and long past the age when that could change. He also looked a lot tenser than usual. “Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” he said. He didn’t need to think about it; Jun was the only close friend he saw regularly—both at work and outside it, and Uri knew the second was mostly due to Jun’s efforts. He glanced at the offices—sound and scent-proofed—that lined the corridor. “You wanna…?”

“Yeah, I— It’s kind of personal.”

Uri didn’t ask any more, just led the way to the next empty interview room. Jun closed the door behind them but instead of sitting on a chair, chose to lean back against the conference table in the centre of the room, crossed arms contradicting his relaxed posture. “Maybe it’s not the best time, but yesterday sucked monkey balls, and I just—” He settled his hands down on the table, gripping it and exhaling slowly. “You don’t talk much about the adoption centre, but I figured you’d know more than me.”

Uri gave himself a second to see if among the rambling, Jun had actually bothered to mention what he was talking about. “You forgot the topic,” he said after a moment.

“Oh! Yes, adoption. We want to do it… Well, we _think_ ,” he added a little slower. “But the kids we talked to—” He stopped, shaking his head. “Man, it was like they couldn’t have been less interested. Rimini almost cried when we got back home.”

Driving Rimini to tears couldn’t be easy, at least from what Uri knew of his friend’s long-time partner and since they often dragged him to dinner with them, he’d have said he was in a fairly good position to judge. “Okay,” he told Jun. “First of all, kids in adoption centres aren’t in a good place, even if it’s a nice centre and they’re cared for. They’re there because their families can’t look after them, or worse, they aren’t around to look after them.”

Jun nodded, eyes wide. “I know, _I know._ ”

Uriel silenced him with a raised hand. “Did you guys fill out the questionnaires before going?”

“You think Rimini will let me go anywhere without doing my homework?” Jun asked. “He made me fill them out by myself, and _then_ we compared what we’d written and talked it over.”

“Good,” Uri said, merciless. He’d known more than one adoption to fall through because a couple hadn’t thought it through—for a kid, there was very little more discouraging.

“So how did we fuck up anyway?”

Uri snorted. “How am I supposed to know that? You’d need to tell me all the details. Well, _Rimini_ would have to tell me all the details.”

“You don’t trust me?” Jun asked, fluttering his dark, pretty lashes and affecting an air of innocence his youthful looks would have let him get away with if he hadn’t meant it as a jest.

Uri rolled his at him. Jun was a great lawyer, with an eye for detail that sometimes left Uri feeling as envious as admiring. What he was not was great at summarizing his own experiences. “More like I have a job to do.” He waved his notes as proof.

“Whatever, then you have to come to dinner. Rimini’s trying something new anyway.”

Uri vacillated, very aware of the unexpected kindness fate had done him with Thomas’s number. But even if it was still there and he hadn’t wrecked his phone, it’d keep one more day.

Maybe it was better if he thought it through, anyway. And Jun and Rimini needed him. “Twist my arm, why don’t you?” he told Jun.

“Will do if you side with Rimini again about salt,” Jun warned him, then checked his watch. “Dammit, lunch’s over. Let’s head home together at sevenish, yeah?”

 

&

 

He was grateful he’d taken notes because as soon as he got back to his desk and discovered the phone wasn’t broken, he forgot about the new case. He breathed out, holding the bulky thing David always teased him for but Uri had never seen a point in replacing. _Take that, David_ , he thought as the screen lit up with no signs of having met the hardboard floor.

He had another moment of panic when he got the home screen instead of his contact list, but when he opened up the application, the name was still there, and so was the number.

The number Thomas must have put in there. Because he wanted Uri to call.

Except… why hadn’t he _said_ it was there? The guy was famous, but surely he couldn’t expect any stranger he took to bed to chase after him… He was being absurd, of course, Thomas was just a guy—famous or not, and if he’d added his info to Uri’s phone, there was no other way to interpret that but positively.

There was no way to interpret their night together but positively. Uri might not have had the strongest confidence on his social skills, but he wasn’t questioning the sounds Thomas had made while he’d fucked him against the wall. He shifted on his chair, the memory a little too intense for the workplace.

He should have offered his own number, but he hadn’t. And Thomas had obviously forgotten to tell him about adding his own. One thing was for sure: it’d been a mistake to leave early without making sure they could find each other again.

But now, he could fix it.

 

&

 

Rimini smiled at him, pretty brown eyes twinkling. Uri leaned closed for a half hug which lingered a little too long. Not that he minded, Rimini was only physically affectionate with people he felt real affection for and Uri tended to always be low on hugs.

“Thanks for coming,” Rimini said, already heading for the kitchen. It was the biggest room in the apartment and smelled like heaven, assuming heaven smelled like caramelised onions and some spices Uri couldn’t name but was definitely looking forward to consuming. Rimini was either psychic or Jun had texted on the way because a cup of perfectly brewed jasmine tea materialized in front of Uri almost before he was seated. “Oh, thanks.”

“Least I can do.” Rimini spared him a smile in between cutting some potatoes.

“Least _he_ can do,” Jun corrected coming in from the bedroom where he’d gone to change. “How many times have we fed him like a king?”

Rimini’s eyebrow could have erased several minor experiences. Jun raised his hands at once in a pacifying gesture. “You. You have fed him like a king, I have… offered him the hospitality due to one?”

“Have you?” Uri demanded, taking a sip of his tea as regally as he could manage. “I have noticed a distinct lack of feet washing, for one.”

Jun groaned theatrically. “Don’t even, man. We’re about to eat! I don’t want to even _think_ about your feet.”

“Boys,” Rimini said firmly. “Back on topic, please.”

Uri nodded at him. “Jun said you went to an adoption centre yesterday; which one?”

Rimini and Jun were the best kind of prospective parents, and the worst. Because when you said (and told yourself) that you were open to any possibility, what you really meant was that you couldn’t narrow it down. And the last thing a child without parents needed was added uncertainty from someone who was offering to come in and take the uncertainty implicit to living in a place that was by definition temporary.

Uri didn’t really remember being in the adoption centre, at six he’d retained the memory of the bunk beds and the older girl who’d been assigned to help him acclimatize—his mothers had taken him back to visit Emman until she’d got emancipated at seventeen, though, so he could have just made up the rest to fill in the blank.

He didn’t remember his mother and grandmother at all, not even when he looked at the pictures the social worker had collected from their flat when he’d been taken in. It was a natural enough reaction to trauma, and yet…

Jun and Rimini at least thought about the practical considerations; any child who did not yet attend school was too young for them to look after with their jobs, even if Rimini’s position at the university as a food researcher was a morning only commitment except during conferences. They had a spare room in their flat, which they’d justified so far because Jun’s mother lived too far to visit unless she slept over, but which said potential grandmother was also happy to give up in favour of a grandchild to spoil.

“So you just did an interview with each of them?” Uri checked.

“Is that not how it’s done?” Rimini was frowning a little over the perfectly crumbly puff pastry, even though it was so good Uri was almost offended on its behalf.

Uri shrugged. “Some centres do it like that, but think about it like a first date; you meet someone for the first time and you have to make conversation, only in this first date there’s a hell of a power imbalance.”

“Oh,” Jun said, voice going a little high.

“Yeah,” Uri agreed. “So at the adoption centre where I volunteer, they put the pressure on the parents instead. You go in and chat to all of them, not knowing anything about their background, just meeting them on their turf, really.”

“And then?”

“Then if any of them want you back, you get a second invitation.”

“That’s brilliant!” Jun said, so enthusiastically he sent a piece of broccoli flying across the table.

Rimini laughed and Uri almost choked on the pie as he joined in; he could almost taste their anticipation and joy.

 


	7. Chapter 7

#  Chapter Seven: Thomas

Thomas didn’t think much of Carry and Keenan missing morning practice. According to Coach they’d been there earlier on their own, which was always a plus as far as Thomas was concerned. He did his best not to assume it had anything to do with their hormones, but they were so bloody _intense_ about each other that… Well, it was hard to spend as much time around them as Thomas did and not notice.

They were handling it, anyway. He’d seen the change after he’d left them alone a couple days earlier. Maybe they needed a little help here and there while they sorted themselves out, but they seemed to have figured out how to talk to each other without him having to stand by and prompt them to keep the conversation flowing.

That afternoon, they proved him right in the oddest of ways: somehow they’d got Coach to place Carry in Patel’s line, putting Diego on Keenan’s left instead. It was all well and good for strikers to practice playing on their weakest side, but he couldn’t see why Keenan and Carry wanted to play away from each other when they’d apparently made an effort to come in early to practice playing on their own.

And they’d most definitely play together on their next game, they were too good for the coaches to use them any other way.

It was a good practice, energizing and fun and they only lost by one point, which wasn’t enough for anyone to mock them for.

He thought about cornering one or both of them—probably one, and probably Carry, but he couldn’t quite think of how to ask. Keenan’s crush was both obvious from Mars and in direct contradiction to his insistence that he was not sexually attracted to men. But Carry… well, someone had just as clearly screwed him over real bad and even if he did feel something for Keenan other than the irritation most people seemed to bring out on him, he was likely to deny it.

It was none of Thomas’s business anyway. As long as their hockey was okay, they had every right to pine away like lovers separated by fate or something equally dramatic. So once again, he got changed and let it go.

 

&

 

Not doing anything seemed to be doing the job just fine… Until they got to the Trinity Titan’s rink in Poland and it all fell apart. Sven warned them ahead of time that Carry would be targeted by their ex-teammates, which Thomas wasn’t that surprised about. Carry was only nineteen and burned badly enough it’d taken months to coax him into opening up even a little, it wasn’t hard to guess the team who’d traded him as fast as bureaucratically possible was behind his twitchiness.

Thomas knew something was wrong the moment he saw Carry’s skating had lost its characteristic smoothness—maybe someone who hadn’t been watching the man skate for the last few months wouldn’t have noticed, but Thomas paid attention.

To his eye, it was like it an altogether different player stopping at the other end of the line. To make matter worse, Keenan also seemed out of sorts, which was as per the course with their strange connection. He gritted his teeth and tried to rally them, but even though Carry managed to receive his pass quite well, the Titans were keeping too close to him. A moment later, Villiers slammed into him, sending him to the ground hard enough Thomas’s teeth hurt in sympathy.

He’d have gone to him, but Keenan got there first and like on the bench earlier, their conversation seemed too private too intrude. In theory, it was absurd, they were speaking about the game and Carry’s health, nothing… But Thomas had kept his distance for too long. Carry didn’t go out for the break he probably needed. He seemed okay, if not better than before, and managed to get around Villiers with the puck.

And then Puccio got in his way and he fell apart. Not that he was obvious about it, he simply lost the puck. Except Carry’s stick handling was normally impeccable and Puccio hadn’t even done anything sophisticated—apparently, when it came to Carry, he didn’t need to.

Something was clearly very wrong and the next minutes of play did nothing but confirm it.

As if losing to Carry’s old team wasn’t bad enough, the arseholes were breaking protocol right, left and centre. Thomas didn’t normally keep track, but he’d checked for Carry and Puccio was an alpha and that meant he shouldn’t have been staring at Carry like that. Villiers was just a regular beta creep as far as he could tell, but Thomas wasn’t surprised the way he was smirking got Keenan’s hackles up.

At least Carry was sensible enough to keep both himself and Keenan from giving his ex-teammate unasked for dental surgery.

"Stop making a fuss, it's just what they want!" he snapped at them both. He knew it wasn’t their fault, of course, but if either of them got carded over a fight on the ice _after_ they’d lost…

They listened, or maybe some secret alpha-omega communication had taken place that had sorted things out—no way for Thomas to know, was there? He was just the guy they’d needed to be able to talk to each other up until a couple weeks ago—no one that important.

 

&

 

He clicked to open the text message with the automaticity of someone who’d got his little sister an unlimited message phone plan for her birthday. But it wasn’t from Colleen.

[Hi, this is Uriel. May I call you?]

 _May_. Thomas was torn between laughing for joy and at the sheer ridiculousness of the formality from a guy who’d had his cock so far down his throat he could probably still taste it. He settled for grinning. Because how the hell had Uri found his number? Was this the fate his parents insisted had united them and Thomas had always assumed was a load of bullshit?

He almost called him right then, but then he remembered Uri’s reluctance; the message in front of his eyes was the very obvious proof of it. He made himself save the contact information instead—no way was he spitting on the universe’s face again. Then he texted back.

[Sure. Home for the evening, call whenever]

Very magnanimous of him, sure, except then he had to _wait_ for the call. He made himself put the phone down on the kitchen counter, then went to get a drink off the fridge. Beer, which of course reminded him of teasing Uri, but uncapping it and taking a long pull was still something to do with his hands.

He still hadn’t had dinner, either. He opened the fridge again, even though he was aware he’d neither remembered to buy groceries after his sisters had ravaged through his supplies or requested any ready-made meals.

Uri would probably laugh his head off if he found out Thomas ate most of his meals at hotels or from what basically amounted to the team’s hand—more like a pet than a doll, really. But it was convenient, and a luxury, really, but in a way, it was also necessary for his career. After all, who had time to check he was getting enough of all the right vitamins and amino acids for his intensive training and playing? And—

He almost dropped the bottle when the phone went off to the familiar tones of Bohemian Rhapsody. He exhaled, taking an extra second to check he was depositing the beer on the counter and not thin air, then crossed the two steps and picked up.

“Hey.” It came out breathless.

“Hello,” Uriel said from the other side. Thomas’s grip relaxed a little and he realised he hadn’t been sure it would be him, not until he’d recognized the voice.

Uri was being too formal again, he noted. He gave him a second to say more, then offered, “It’s nice to hear from you.”

“Uh, yeah, I— I wanted…” He heard Uriel swallow. “This is going to sound a little insane and I’m aware you are in the middle of the season and everything—”

“What?” Thomas cut in. Mostly because his brain seemed to have ground to a halt, or maybe he’d forgotten English altogether. Did the guy seriously think Thomas wasn’t allowed to go out at all during the season?

“I just… I wondered…” Thomas closed his eyes, trying to focus on his toes like he’d been taught in school to stop himself from cutting in again. “Would you come and give the kids some tips? We— well, it’s field hockey, but they are ten to fourteen, so…”

His eyes snapped open. It wasn’t the first time someone had asked for a favour related to hockey, of course—his parents had offered his services to the community more than once when he’d been younger, for one thing. It was the least he could do, they’d said, since he was fortunate enough they had been able to pay for his training until he’d become a professional.

He reached for the beer and took a drink that wasn’t enough to help with the tightness in his throat. “Don’t I need, like, a background check or something?” he asked, mostly because he needed a bloody moment to process. It didn’t add up. Had Uri got his number from somewhere else? It wasn’t like his mobile was listed anywhere, but then again, how likely was for someone to find a number on their phone without knowing it was there?

“No!” Uri said too quickly. Odd that he seemed more nervous instead of less. “I mean, yeah, like, people do. But I’ll be there the whole time, so nothing like that. You just… You show up, and do your thing. Th—” He stopped again, almost like he’d stumbled.

“You okay?” Thomas asked.

“Yeah,” Uri answered, actually sounding a little out of breath.

Thomas almost asked him again. Except he couldn’t have caught Uri at a bad time, not when Uri had called _him_ , and as surreal as the whole conversation seemed, no fucking way had the guy he’d slept with a few days back had found his phone number anywhere but where Thomas had left it for him.

 _I’ll be there the whole time_. So if he wanted to see Thomas but couldn’t quite come out and say it… if maybe he wasn’t sure if Thomas had forgotten to tell him about the number or changed his mind… Well, Uri had admitted he preferred playing it safe, hadn’t he?

But Thomas didn’t. And who the fuck said no to orphans anyway?

“Okay, next weekend?” he suggested. It was Friday but he’d just got back from an away game and, anyway, for all that Carry and Keenan’s impromptu private practice had apparently fixed whatever they’d broken in his absence, he didn’t want to leave them unsupervised so soon. They’d won against the Whistling Winds, but their standing was by no means secure yet. 

“Oh, yeah,” Uri said. “Well, I have… I have to check with the carers,” he admitted. “But I haven’t heard about any trips so it’s unlikely there’s anything planned.”

“Okay,” Thomas repeated. He was disappointed, he could admit that much; he’d expected to come out of this conversation with a date with a hot man, instead he’d agreed to a playdate with a group of teenagers, most of whom probably preferred football to hockey. “Just let me know the day and time when you find out.”

“Yeah.” Uri’s voice was low, and he didn’t sound like someone who’d got what they wanted out of a conversation. “I will. And… Thank you, I… They’ll love you. It. The class.”

Thomas bit his lip hard to keep from laughing, but he couldn’t hold back completely. “I’m sure I’ll love… them,” he finished after a marked pause.

He was a betting man and if there had been anyone around, he’d have bet that sound had been Uri’s breath stuttering. “Thank you,” the man said. “Um, again,” he added a little wryly.

“Looking forward to it,” Thomas said. “Sweet dreams.”

“You too,” came the whisper, warmer.

Maybe this would work out, after all—teenagers or no teenagers.

 

&

 

“Where the hell have you been?” Colleen demanded. It was way too early, which was why he’d been too uncoordinated to figure out how to cancel the call and answered it instead.

“Hello to you too,” Thomas told his sister. “Also, Praha.”

“Oh, the…” She huffed. “Still, how many days was that?”

“Two,” he admitted. “But I texted you Wednesday, didn’t I?”

“Sure,” she agreed, not sounding all that mollified. “But on _Thursday_ dad looked through my text messages and threw a fit.”

He groaned, rolling over on the sofa to press his face against the back of it. “Of course he would violate your privacy and then get angry at what he finds. You have your phone, so I’m guessing you got it off him on time?”

Colleen sighed. “He found out about the trip we want to take for the summer solstice. His first thought? It’s the cover up for alcohol and orgies! And then of course I got the speech.”

Thomas didn’t ask what she meant; he’d got the speech himself often enough. It went something along the lines that just because you were a beta and couldn’t find your soulmate; it didn’t mean you had to throw yourself at any passing stranger like intimacy was meaningless. For Colleen it had to be even worse because even though Thomas would snatch her out of their parents’ house in a heartbeat if they ever crossed that line, he thought it was heavily implied that she had _chosen_ to be a beta and wasted her chance at perfect love willingly.

It was all the worse because there was no way for Colleen to ever know for sure.

“He’s a dick,” he told his sister sincerely. “You want to come over? I won’t even be here half of next week.”

She snorted. “Yeah, because you bother me so much. Where are you off to this time?”

“Iceland.”

“Uhh, I’m cold just thinking about it,” Colleen said with an audible shudder. “Just for the day?”

“Two days, Wednesday and Thursday. It’s only three hours but the match is a little late in the day. Maybe I’ll get to see the city for once.”

“Oh, yeah, poor you,” Colleen mocked him. “What a hardship it must be flying all over Europa to play a game and get paid like a surgeon.”

“I do not get paid like a surgeon,” he repeated.

“That’s just because surgeons get paid depending on patient satisfaction,” his sister insisted. “But you get paid like the decent ones.”

“Just decent? Gee, thanks.” Then he swallowed and came out with it. “I’ll be around Friday but I’m not sure about the weekend.”

“Not sure? Don’t you have practice on Saturday like usual?”

“It’s optional,” he said, knowing it was as good as a confession.

Colleen whooped. “No way! Do you have a _date_? Are you meeting one of your hockey heroes? Do you have a date with one of your hockey heroes?”

“Not exactly.”

She must have picked up on his uncertainty because her voice was lower when she asked, “Not exactly a date?”

“Yeah, it’s… well, it’s actually kind of weird. You remember Val’s concert?”

“Yes, but don’t remind her, I’m almost forgiven for missing it.”

“Well, I didn’t miss it so the universe gave me a reward. Met this guy there… and took him home.”

“Wow, you’re picking up at children’s concerts now? In front of the parental unit? How are you still alive?”

“It’s not like I made out with the man in front of them, Col,” he said, rolling his eyes even though she couldn’t see it. The nickname seemed to linger in the air between them, but she didn’t object this time. Thomas didn’t ask.

“But you did make out with him?”

He didn’t feel comfortable discussing that many details, which was exactly why Colleen was asking—if he actually started telling her anything, she’d probably hang up on him. “I did, and it was good. The point being that I was an idiot and added my number to his phone but forgot to tell him about it. I figured that was it, but then yesterday I get home and he calls me.”

“But how—?”

“ _Exactly!_ ” he cut in. “Except, obviously he found it, because it’s my mobile, not the home phone. And then, you’re going to laugh, but he called me to ask me to volunteer to train at the adoption centre.”

Colleen didn’t laugh, probably too confused to see how ridiculous the whole situation was. “The _what_?”

“He works there, well, volunteers,” he clarified. “I met one of the kids at the concert and he was really into hockey so it’s not, like, completely out of left field, but I thought…”

“That you would get a booty call?”

Thomas hesitated, not because of the reference to sex, he was fine with that as long as it was nothing graphic. “I… It wasn’t just the sex, he was funny, and it felt…” He huffed, annoyed with himself. He’d slept with the guy once and now he was making up all these— “I don’t know, it wasn’t a random hook-up, that’s all. But I don’t know what to make of this; pretty sure it’s his way of asking to see me again without committing to anything, but…”

“So he’ll be there when you volunteer?”

“Yeah.”

“Then yes, it’s his way of asking you out without asking you out,” Colleen declared with all the wisdom of her nineteen years on earth.

“Good to know,” he sassed, but he was smiling. He’d already been pretty sure, but it was good to get confirmation from an independent source. “So we could do something on Friday?”

 


	8. Chapter 8

#  Chapter Eight: Uriel

He was still cringing at the whole conversation—which had been really mortifying, given, but maybe not worth reliving for two days straight. It’d been a mistake to call after work on Friday, he realised now, but he’d figured that if he was upset then he’d have the weekend to calm down.

Thomas was pretty hard to stop thinking about, so he was grateful when Mx Yave’s new project had turned out to be more interesting than he’d initially thought—a divorce, yes, but of a bonded pair. The legal intricacies governing alpha/omega relationships were very different to those of beta marriages. For one thing, the psychic and chemical bond between an alpha and omega couldn’t be dissolved without rather extreme consequences. Repudiation was such a grotesque process that it was only used in the most extreme cases.

Mx Yave would be there for the meeting, but he’d asked Uri to join him since their client was an omega and he hoped she’d take the advice coming from him better than from a noseblind beta. It was as likely to hinder as to help, but they had no omega lawyers on staff and even though Mx Yave had to be around fifty and must have had experience dealing with omegas, they _had_ thought a young unbonded alpha would be a good choice to soften up a forty-five year old omega who had two children already. Maybe it was enough that Uri knew he had no advantage over anyone else—a little modesty to sell his sincere belief that a repudiation would be a mistake.

Reading up on the background so he’d be briefed to meet the client that afternoon took up most of his day—he ate lunch at his desk again, this time without looking away from his reader.

He allowed himself only a small break to put in a call to the adoption centre and check his impromptu hockey game was okay with them. Javier, the carer he spoke to, had been so grateful to him for offering something different for the weekend—which was the hardest time for the kids who didn’t get visitors—that Uri had ended up feeling a little guilty. Not that he hadn’t been thinking of the kids, mostly Kyeran, when he’d asked Thomas to help. But… well, he’d also wanted a chance to see the man again.

He used his eye drops and dove back into the file. He couldn’t afford any distractions—especially not when he had to get through the whole week before any of his questions would get answers.

“Uriel?” Mx Yave’s voice brought him back from squinting at his reader. The light had gone down and he hadn’t noticed.

“Yes?”

“It’s time,” the older lawyer reminded him with a patient smile.

Uri stumbled a little in his hurry to get to his feet. “Yeah, just one moment—” He gathered his papers, placing the reader device on top.

But Mx Yave tsked reprovingly. “We want your attention on the client, don’t worry about the paperwork, you won’t have time to read it.”

“Of course,” Uri agreed, putting it all back down. He had never worked with Mx Yave before—both Mx Silas and Mx Ahmed liked to be prepared and to look it. He followed back to the spacious office, one of the walls was glass but there were soft electrical lights giving the room a soft glow.

And an omega woman whose back straightened at once as they entered from behind her. She was on her feet by the time Mx Yave started to greet her. “Your protégé,” she deduced, eyeing Uriel sceptically.

Mx Yave nodded, pretending not to notice her reluctance. “Yes, this is Uriel Alkaim, one of our most promising young lawyers.”

She turned to Uri with almost violent focus, then again, it tended to be hard for omegas to meet an alpha’s eyes and she was staring him straight in the eye. “Call me Claudette.”

With another client, he’d have tried to demur that it wouldn’t be appropriate, but the last thing he could do to an omega who felt threatened was impose his will. “Of course,” he agreed with a nod. He didn’t offer his hand—she was bonded and it was unlikely to do anything, but it was her prerogative.

“Well, can we get on with things?” she asked Mx Yave.

“Yes, of course, please have a seat, Uriel.”

Uri did, across the desk from their client and making sure to take the chair that left him fully behind his boss’s massive desk.

Up until that moment, Uri had assumed Claudette was _considering_ repudiation, but it soon became clear that she was determined to go through with it. Uri could understand the grounds for the divorce, but he still wasn’t convinced she needed to go to such extremes.

But he wasn’t here to let his feelings get in the way of helping their client, and if he felt disgusted at the idea... What could the woman proposing to go through with it herself feel?

“You seem very sure,” Mx Yave told her, cautious but not betraying any unease—Uri kept his own mouth shut, aware he wouldn’t be able to disguise his scent even if he managed to keep his expression neutral.

Claudette didn’t look at him, doing him the courtesy of ignoring the reactions he couldn’t help. She nodded at his boss, mouth pursed and scent acrid. Uri’s strongest instinct was to throw himself at her feet and promise her he’d keep her safe. He didn’t move, just dug his nails into his palm and stayed very still, letting her make the choices she needed to make.

He wasn’t sure she was right, but then again, he wasn’t sure she was _wrong_.

The bond tugging the partners together could never be dissolved. This was meant to be part of the magical connection between the souls, or at least that’s what most religious and spiritual interpretations claimed.

But bonds were integrated by two people and sometimes people couldn’t make it work, no matter how well their genes were meant to interact when producing healthy offspring.

An unbreakable bond was a mess both legally and morally, which was probably why the history of where and how doctor Mengele had developed the technique was often glossed over. Uri still remembered sitting in a university classroom, shaking a little and waiting for the lecturer to mention the origins of repudiation. The teacher hadn’t. It wasn’t relevant to the law, she’d said when Uri had brought himself to ask afterwards.

It was hard to say what was worse, the history or the legacy.

And Uri had no idea what he could say now, he had no insight to offer, just unspeakable horror at both the circumstances Claudette found herself in and the equally horrifying solution she’d found for them.

 

&

 

“That was a mistake,” was the first thing Mx Yave said as soon as they were alone.

Uri gulped, more in anger than regret. Of course it’d been a mistake, the woman had been betrayed so profoundly by an alpha she trusted she wanted to destroy any chance of ever seeing her bondmate again—why would she react well to _another_ alpha trying to influence her decisions?

“Did you know she’d react that way?” Mx Yave asked, sounding calm.

Uri glanced up, then shrugged and admitted, “I guessed it was likely.”

“But you didn’t tell me.”

“I wasn’t sure, and I thought…”

“You thought…?”

“I thought you’d have consulted with Mx Ahmed,” Uri admitted, glancing away. “I… I deferred to your experience.”

Mx Yave huffed and Uri frowned at him, unable to place the emotions on the older beta’s face. “I guess I should have spoken to you about me first, shouldn’t I?” They sighed. “Well, I’m not Tony, and I’m not Latifa. I don’t want a suck-up, Uriel, I want advice. Solid advice, which you had and didn’t give me.”

“I’m sorry,” Uri said at once. “I—”

“Wasn’t finished,” Mx Yave interrupted, nodding when Uri shut up. “That was your mistake; _my_ mistake was not telling you what I wanted from you.”

Uri hesitated. “It won’t happen again, but you should… maybe you’d have better luck with a beta. A man, not a woman, since…”

“Since her alpha is female?” Mx Yave asked, there was edge to their voice.

“Yes,” Uri said firmly. “Someone who could never remind her of her alpha, is there someone like that?”

“I’ve met her alpha,” Mx Yave told him thoughtfully, “And I have seen them together. Claudette didn’t act like that around her.”

“Did she… did she submit?” he asked, lowering his voice without meaning to. It was the only word he had to speak about the deferential way omegas were expected to treat alphas, especially their own.

Mx Yave looked thoughtful. “Not exactly, but… she avoided looking at her alpha, and speaking to her directly.”

“Did her alpha speak to her?”

“Once.”

“And she responded?”

“Yes,” Mx Yave said, sounding a little pained. He might not have had scent, but he’d clearly realised the significance of that fact.

Uri sighed, looking away. “That’s why Claudette’s insisting on repudiation. She’s afraid she’ll go back otherwise.”

“Will she?”

 _Yes_ , Uri’s brain readily supplied. A bonded omega would go back to her alpha under almost any circumstances. It was why bonds were fucked up—or at least could very easily become so. You couldn’t give anyone that much power and expect them to never misuse it. But maybe…

Uri thought of the children, seven and ten. The ones Claudette’s alpha had picked up from school and flown across Europa without letting her know. The children that she’d kept in a ski resort in Moscow for a week while their mother lost her mind to the point where she’d had to be sedated. An omega without the support of her bonded partner was already vulnerable and any mother would have panicked at their children’s unexpected and unexplained absence. It was clearly not an accident. They’d been too far for the alpha to feel their bond, but then she had returned home and pretended everything had been planned and Claudette had simply forgotten… And she _must_ have felt it then; despair like that didn’t leave you that fast. And yet, she insisted the whole thing had been planned in advance; why else would Claudette have copies of the plane tickets on her email account?

“Has the alpha ever threatened the children?” he asked finally. Since Claudette hadn’t mentioned anything, he assumed the kids had been just fine after their holiday.

“Not that I know of.”

Uri sighed. “Then yes, she very likely will go back.”

“Why the children?” Mx Yave asked, by-passing Uri’s despair with clinical logic.

Uri didn’t mind, he couldn’t help what he felt, but he didn’t want it to get in the way of their work either. Feelings weren’t admissible in a court of law. “It’s not guaranteed, but omegas sometimes can break an alpha’s hold on them if their children are threatened. It’s… well, the only bond strong enough.”

“Even stronger than survival?” The beta sounded disbelieving. If they had to ask, maybe they hadn’t been so wrong to ask for Uri’s advise.

“For a bonded omega, their alpha _is_ survival,” Uri explained. It wasn’t something that could be explained, apparently not all the dramatic re-enactments—mostly by betas—on the small and big screen could convey this as well as Uri understood it even with just the budding sense of a bond he had any time he met an omega he was compatible with.

The senior lawyer didn’t respond for a moment. “I see.” The chair scrapped against the hardwood as they stood and turned away from Uri. For a moment he wondered if he’d given offense. But Mx Yave went to a cabinet in the back of the room and pulled out some glasses and a bottle.

“Here.” Mx Yave turned and placed the glass on the table. _Whiskey_ , Uri thought, and almost laughed. “I apologize if I have overstepped.”

Uri stared at his boss, then shook his head and looked down at the tumbler. It was just a finger and he drank it all at once before making himself look up again. “You needed to know.”

“Yes, now I know what we need; we have to get her sole custody.”

“What?” he blurted out.

“She won’t be able to resist going back if they have to see each other, that’s why she wants the repudiation, but the alpha is counting on that.”

“Yes, but—”

“The alpha hasn’t threatened the children,” Mx Yave explained. “But she’s used them; you think she won’t do it again?”

“Why would she want to? She’s going to feel awful if they see each other again.”

“Tell me if I’m mistaken, but wouldn’t Claudette’s alpha have felt awful once they reunited after that surprise trip to Moscow?”

It was exactly what Uri had been thinking, of course, but he didn’t see… “Oh, you think— you think she’ll do it again, even if it hurts her? Just to—” he stopped speaking, throat closing up. It was hard to imagine doing that to someone else, but to do it to yourself? Uriel could understand cruelty, he’d witnessed enough in his profession, but those capable of great damage to others were rarely keen on any damage to themselves.

“Yes,” Mx Yave, sad but certain. “Yes, she will. Because control is more important than pain to her.”

“But how—?”

“Not now,” his boss interrupted. “Now we’ll go home and sleep, or at least put on a collagen mask so we don’t look like zombies come morning.”

Uri cracked a smile with a little effort, but then he met Mx Yave’s eyes and his mind seemed to clear. “Maybe my alpha brain can provide me with a solution from the depths of instinct,” he suggested, then gulped when he realised what he'd said. "I mean—"

But Yave burst out laughing. "Oh, child, so you do have something under the polite, harmless alpha façade."

Uri was relieved he hadn't given offense ,but... "It's not a façade," he said quietly. He was aware Mx Yave was his boss, but he couldn't let this stand.

The hilarity cleared off Mx Yave's face. "No, of course it isn't." Uri got a respectful nod. "I meant nothing by it, just that I suspected there was more to you than met the eye, which is not the same as a façade at all, of course."

Uri returned the nod and took his leave. "Have a good night."

 

&

 

He went home on the tram, mind sifting through all he'd read in search of a hint, a possibility—however remote—to help the woman who'd entrusted her future to them. He wondered, because it was just the way his mind worked, if it mattered to him that she was an omega, and that it was her alpha, the person she was meant to trust above all else, who was hurting her like this. But how to tell? He understood what she must have been going through better than Mx Yave could, but his boss clearly empathized with their client and had plenty of insight into her alpha, too. Of course, power hungry manipulators weren't the exclusive province of alphas, whatever propaganda and stereotyping insisted on, and an experienced barrister like Mx Yave must have come across a fair number of controlling spouses... and worse.

Uri turned to look out the window, desperate for a distraction from the dark turn of his thoughts. His overtaxed brain took pity on him, after a whole day of alpha-omega business, a young woman kicking a ball on a giant billboard sparked the memory of Thomas's picture in uniform.

With the padding adding a few centimetres to his torso and the skates a little more than that to his height, he'd looked like a giant. It was odd but despite their relative sizes, he hadn't _felt_ like that when they'd been together; except when they’d been in the bathtub and Thomas had cradled him in his arms, all his strength around Uri like—

He swallowed, wetting his lips and checking the stop absently, more for the distraction than— "Fuck," he muttered, jumping to his feet. He'd missed it! Luckily, he could still walk home if he got off on the next one instead. He hurried to ring the bell and almost jumped out when the doors slid open for him.

The Indian takeaway next to his flat was nice enough, so he indulged himself. But waiting there wasn't exactly a great distraction from his thoughts. He pulled out his phone and opened the messages they'd exchanged. Bland, almost business like. Nothing like the night they'd spent together.

Once inside, he set the Tupperware down on the kitchen table, then flopped down on his perfectly ordinary wooden chair.

Thomas had said yes, he reminded himself. And he'd teased Uri, too, which meant he'd guessed... Well, maybe not that Uri was such an idiot that he'd called to ask him out and ended up asking him to volunteer at the centre. But that Uri wanted to see him again, to... Well, to see where things between them could go, which wasn't something one asked of a one-night stand, but if Thomas had wanted to say no, he was more than able, wasn't he? That was why Uriel always dated betas; there was no second-guessing the most important stuff with them, they either wanted to be there or they said otherwise—no secret hormonal urges forcing their hand.

He finished the food, more to avoid wasting it than because he wanted to, then forced himself through his bedtime routine. And, despite the horror of the day, or maybe because of it, as he closed his eyes, it was Thomas’s face that came to him, his smiling eyes, his daring smirk, his face going slack with pleasure as Uri sucked him dry…

 

&

 

Jun had overdone it with the eye shadow, while Rimini had clearly poured her own nervous energy into baking what looked like the whole section of a small supermarket.

“Guys...” Uri said as he was let in.

“What?” Jun jumped.

“You need to go wash your face,” Uri said firmly.

“Told you,” Rimini said smugly.

“But—” Jun started to say and Rimini shot him a lightning fast series of signs Uri could only half-decipher. He thought it might have been a reference to a previous conversation because the only word he caught was ‘puppy’.

Not his problem, and Jun sighed and left them alone. “And _you_ need to put away some of this stuff. Uri told Rimini. “There’s thirty seven children living at the centre, not three hundred.”

Rimini glanced at her creations critically. “Yes, but I had to make variations that are gluten and nut free. So...”

“You still don’t want to give anyone a sugar comma and one of the kids is diabetic, actually, so overdoing it and leaving them a lot of leftovers wouldn’t be nice for him.”

Rimini’s face fell. But after a glance around she nodded and turned to him with a new gleam on her face. “Does anyone else have any special dietary needs?”

Uri froze, trying to remember, but for all that he’d shared meals with the kids more than once, there was really no need for them to tell him what they could and couldn’t eat. “No idea.”

She looked less than impressed, but resigned. Before starting to work on food research, she’d spent several years at a catering agency and Uri still remembered the rants about clients who didn’t know what they wanted. “Okay, so we’ll take three of each kind.”

“That’s a 111,” Uri pointed out. “You mean you have more than that?”

She waved off his concerns. “They’ll keep and I like to bribe my students to keep attendance up.”

“I didn’t realise you had to bribe them,” Uri said sceptically.

“Well, no, I’m a cutting edge researcher into flavour infusion, but I’m also nice, that cool with you? Also, wash your hands and come help me repack this. Make you sure you don’t mix the labels.”

Jun stepped into the kitchen. “So? Do I pass muster?”

Rimini paused to look at him, then wiggled a finger for him to approach. She used the same hand to take hold of his face and carefully fix his lip gloss with her thumb. Then she licked the remains like it was icing. Uri couldn’t see her face but he could see Jun’s Adam’s apple jump. Rimini patted him on the arm. “Relax. Uri’s got our back, and it’s just practice, remember?”

Jun leaned in until their foreheads were pressed together and Uri turned back to the cupcakes and pastries. He still heard Jun whisper back, “They’re all gonna want to come live with us, the pretty and the cake are a bit too much.”

Rimini laughed, then made Jun come and help them finish packing.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the shittiest day imaginable, please tell me nice things--they don't even need to be about the story! :p

#  Chapter Nine: Thomas

When he'd agreed to train the kids, more on impulse than anything else, he hadn't expected to end up looking forward to it. But after watching Keenan and Carry go from awkwardly almost ignoring each other to trying to glare each other into submission for control of the ice; teenagers seemed like a relief. At least he could be fairly hopeful they'd grow out of it—alphas and omegas were slaves to their hormones much longer.

And Uriel maybe could provide a different time of relief. He forced his mind out of the gutter and he texted him that he'd arrived at the closest train station—the man had offered to walk him to the adoption centre to introduce him to the carers and director.

Of course, as soon as Uriel showed up, casually dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, it was kind of hard to keep from stealing glances at him in the daylight. Thomas forgave him at once for making him wake up early on a Saturday, when even practices started later, and stepped forward for a hug before things got weird.

Uri didn't pull back, and Thomas definitely wasn't complaining about the way he shivered a little in his arms before returning the gesture. He was a little smaller than Thomas but solid and strong nonetheless—more than capable of holding him against a wall and fucking him senseless, for example—and he smelled of mint chewing gum. The oddity made him smile as they separated.

"Thanks for coming," he told Thomas, who valiantly pretended he didn't see him blushing. He hoped the kids were too young or too self-involved to notice. Not that there would be anything to object to if Uri brought his... Thomas's mind skipped when the word he went for was 'boyfriend'. It was plain stupid, why else was he here if not to see if Uri was interested in a repeat? No, not a repeat, more than a repeat. He wanted to get trapped into a loop with the guy.

It was crazy, but it wasn't like anybody had ever called Thomas sensible, was it? He literally put knives on his feet and went as fast as he could for a living, after all.

"Oh, you brought skates?" Uri asked, seeing his sports bag.

Thomas turned to the object of his fantasies. "What? Um, yeah, of course."

"It's just... we're playing on grass."

Thomas laughed, startled. Uriel had said it was field hockey and of course most people didn’t mean that to be hockey on rollerblades, which was what the coaches had them do when the ice was in use by a different group. "Oh, man, okay. No worries. Running is much better exercise, supposedly," he added a little wryly. Uri looked curious, but didn't ask.

"You don't like running?" Uri sounded surprised.

Thomas shrugged. "It's alright, but nothing compared to skating."

"Mmm... I quite like running," the man said.

"Well, then I guess you'll be faster than me," Thomas responded. "How are those reflexes, old man?"

"You keep calling me that." Uri frowned a little. "You realise I'm not even thirty yet, right?"

"Not even thirty? So how old is that? Twenty-nine?"

The not so old man rolled his eyes at him, but told him what he wanted to know, "Twenty-eight."

Thomas gave a nod. "Guess you'll do," he determined with a lingering glance.

Uriel almost tripped on thin air as he snorted and tried to turn to look at him simultaneously, and Thomas gladly took the chance to reach for his arm and support his weigh.

He didn't pull back like Thomas had expected, instead allowing him to hold on as he straightened. He couldn't quite figure out this combination of shy and bold—teasing and blushing. It was driving him a little nuts, and intriguing him like crazy.

"How old are you then?" Uri's eyes were dark and intense and for a moment Thomas couldn't think of the words.

"Twenty-two," he managed in the end, swallowing.

He couldn't quite tell if he'd surprised Uriel with the information because at that point the other man gently disengaged his arm to take the keys out of his pocket and unlock the intricate gate at the entrance of what had once been a big state in the outskirts of London city.

Thomas whistled. "Wow, and you thought my flat was fancy?"

"It's not so glamorous inside," Uri explained. "The building was donated by the family a long time ago, but they didn't exactly provide funds to maintain the carpeting and curtains, if you know what I mean."

As they entered the main hall, Thomas realised why Uri had dismissed his first impression: you could tell there had been money here once, in the fixings and the fine shape of the columns, but you could also tell there wasn't that much now, in the cracked tiles on the floor and mismatched sofas. "It's pretty big, isn't it?"

"Yeah, and it's got a great yard. Maybe the best part for the kids."

"Well, let's put it to use!"

 

&

 

Thomas had gone for a t-shirt with the Hell Flames colours—wearing his real uniform without the padding would have made him look like a scarecrow, for one thing—but he didn't expect it to matter. Love hockey as he always had, he was well aware there were plenty of people who didn't care enough to know their local team.

When they stepped outside and the children milling about the place—some of them idly passing a tennis ball with their sticks but most of them just chatting—noticed at once; he thought he'd underestimated himself. He'd walked into plenty of rooms where he was expected and admired, but it still warmed him when they all stopped.

He barely kept his palm from hitting his flaming face when some of the younger children run towards Uri and threw their arms around his middle. Uri was laughing, looking slightly overwhelmed by all the small bodies clinging to him, and half ordering, half begging to be liberated.

An older teenager approached, flicking a long ponytail composed of tiny braids. "Brats," she said, raising her voice sharply. The giggling mass of kids slowly stepped back.

"Hey, Blendi, how's things?" Uriel asked her.

She shrugged, expression still bored but Thomas had seen how fast she'd come over, how relaxed her shoulders were. "Same old."

"Well, got something new for you," Uri replied, already waving an arm to call the remaining kids closer. Uri pointed his thumb at Thomas. "This is Thomas Kiua, he plays for the Hell Flames and he was dope enough to come over and give us a few pointers."

"Is that a hockey team?" A voice asked among the almost twenty children surrounding them. Some of the others laughed, good-naturedly and he caught a high pitched voice explaining, but there was no further ribbing like Thomas would have expected.

"Yeah," Thomas said, signing as he spoke—it was just good manners with a group of strangers. "We play on ice, but it's about the same. People think you play hockey with sticks, but actually it's a whole body sport..."

 

&

 

He'd got them to do a few passing drills first, just to get an idea of whether they could, really, and then he'd put Blendi and another of the bigger kids on the goals and set everyone else to trying to score. He let them get into it, then wandered around and watched. If someone missed a shot or used a dangerous move—the concept of high-sticking was taking its time to penetrate—he took them for a little walk to the opposite goal, then watched them try again there. It was a little trick from Coach Yani back in little league, so kids wouldn’t have to fail twice in front of the same teammates and get discouraged. It also had the invaluable advantage of allowing different players to try their skills against each other. It was how you found your position, and how discovered you were useless against a left-handed goalie.

Uri stood by him for a bit, which Thomas was starting to find flattering until he noticed the other man was trying to learn how to give feedback, not staring at his arse. Then he found it even more flattering; great as skating was for his backside, Thomas had spent a lot more time working on his hockey than worrying about what he looked like, and it was nice to have someone acknowledge his expertise.

Kyeran had been a model player so far, but after they had some juice and biscuits for a mid-morning break, he approached Thomas and looked up at him with his big soulful eyes. "Can we _play_?"

It took an effort not to laugh at the sheer despair in his posture and voice, even as he fully sympathized. "Yes, sure, we can give it a go. Everyone can pass, and that's the most important thing," he added, hoping he was being direct enough without making Kyeran feel singled out. The kid was better than anyone his size and even some of the bigger kids—Thomas wasn't surprised he liked it better than football.

He clapped twice, then waved his hands above his head for good measure. All of the kids could hear, but he wasn't so sure they all spoke English that well—after all, immigrants were often the less able to earn enough to keep their own kids at home. "Okay, so we're going two have to teams. Uriel—"

"Uri!" A little girl corrected him.

"Uri," Thomas agreed with a nod and a smile at the man. He was starting to understand that Kyeran's admiration wasn't an isolated incident; all these kids seemed drawn to Uri likes moths to a flame. "Uri will captain one team, and I'll captain the other. We'll be goalies because we still got a few inches on you, and fair's fair."

Blendi rolled her eyes at him. "Sure, you'll just take up the whole goal."

Thomas laughed again. "Well, I _could_ sit down, but I don't want to make it too easy on you, Blendi."

She rolled her eyes at him. "Whatever. Then I'll be in Uri's team."

The rest of the kids were pretty good sports about getting assigned to teams depending on their size and skill except for a pair who insisted they had to be on the same team because they were cousins.

“Micah, Sabine,” Uri said stepping forward. “We’re all playing together right here.” He pointed at the lawn in front of them, grass short enough to run in and two plastic goals on either end that looked like they might have been left out in the rain once or twice. “And if you play on different teams, you can bet on it.”

It was a surprising twist to the argument, but Thomas caught the pleasure on the kids’ faces at once. “Oh, gods, Micah, let’s!” the long-haired one of them told the other. “If I win, you gotta do my chores for… two days!”

Micah might have been a little older or maybe just more world-weary, because she rolled her eyes at her cousin. “Okay, whatever, but I’m on Uri’s team.”

Sabine grumbled but agreed—apparently Thomas’s status as a professional player didn’t make up for his lack of personal connection to them.

Being on goal wasn't that entertaining for Thomas, who'd always felt the position was too static and required too much sustained attention without enough action. It required great skill, of course, just not the kind he personally excelled at.

It was apparently the kind _Uri_ excelled at. He was still behind his team, occasionally he'd shout out instructions, but for the most part he just watched. The teams were pretty evenly matched; Blendi and another girl had decided to play at the front together while two boys that looked bigger but had to be about fourteen as well were in fronting the opposing line. The size difference could have been too much, but Blendi was good with her stick and the other girl was fast enough to make up for the boys’ longer reach. Kyeran completed the opposing offense, which might not have been completely fair to the child playing with Blendi, but there was only so much adjusting Thomas could manage with players he’d never seen in action. This game was just for fun, he reminded himself.

The defence was all younger kids, four of them in each team, including Micah and Sabine, since no one wanted to wait on the bench. Their coordination wasn’t the best and they were too small too effectively block the older kids, but they seemed happy enough to needle their elders and let the adults do the actual goal-keeping. Thomas was aware he was meant to be watching the kids but when the black boy who was playing centre-forward for his team ran in Uri's direction, his breath caught at the utter, perfect stillness in the other man's body—a predator waiting to strike.

And strike he did, shifting his stick fast and easy to the exact place where the tennis ball was going to enter the goal area. The boy swore audibly, but didn't seem really angry, turning back for the next face off. This one he won, earning an enraged growl from Blendi. "T'jean!"

That distracted T'jean enough to allow Kyeran to swipe the ball off his stick. Thomas winced, fists clenching around a stick he couldn’t use. Kyeran couldn't keep the ball on his stick as he ran but it sent it dangerously close to Thomas's own goal until one of his little defenders stepped forward and kicked it away.

By the time they'd resolved that foul and explained that only goalies could use their bodies to touch the ball, Thomas's ears kind of needed a break. He swapped the defence and offence in each team and send Blendi and T'jean to their respective goals—he was making assumptions there, but he wanted them as far apart as possible.

Uri flopped down next to him on the bench overlooking the field. "I think they broke my brain," Thomas confessed.

He got a sceptical eyebrow in response. "Weren't you a tough athlete? Never give up and all that?"

Thomas groaned. "Nope, I'm— I don't know, a teddy bear, a... a jellyfish! Squishy and soft."

Uri's laughter seemed to expand across the field, free and wild and uncontainable. Thomas thought a few of the kids might have been looking at them but he couldn't look away long enough to check. "A _jellyfish_?"

"What? They're deadly."

"Most of them are just annoying," Uri pointed out, smiling a little. He wasn't watching the kids, either, Thomas noted.

He shrugged. "What's going on with those two?"

Uri didn’t ask who he meant, and his smile was mischievous. "You mean, do they hate each other's guts or want to make out?"

It was Thomas's turn to be shocked. "What?"

Uri shrugged, glancing at the kids with a sort of absent-minded protectiveness. "There's sort of a running bet with the staff. For cake!" he clarified, quickly. "Not money."

Thomas snorted. “You think I would mind if you gossip about kids? I’m sure they’ll be gossiping about us the moment we leave today.” He looked back when there was no answer and saw that Uri looked serious. “What? I didn’t mean…” He lowered his voice. “I didn’t mean like that, necessarily, just… People are curious. It’s normal. And when they don’t know the answers, they make them up.”

Uri finally looked at him again, nodding slowly. “Yeah, you’re right. Just… well, I don’t want this to look… untoward.”

“Untoward?” Thomas echoed, trying not to smile. “What would be untoward about asking a friend to volunteer with you? Even if it was a _boy_ friend, there’s no reason you can’t volunteer with people you already enjoy spending time with. As long as they do a good job.”

“I…” Uri’s face was colouring again, and Thomas’s thoughts were definitely untoward. Either the gods or the kids really liked Uri because right then, there was a shout that had them both springing to their feet and running into the field.

It turned out to be nothing major. At least it hadn’t turned into anything major because Blendi and T’jean were being held back by their respective friends.

“What’s going on here?” Uriel demanded, his voice seemed to spread over the kids like a blanket of snow and most of them turned his way. “Jamil?”

It was Blendi’s friend who responded to the traditionally masculine name. “They told the kids to all come at Blendi at once until one of them scored.”

Thomas heaved a sighed. They weren't the first ones to think of it. "Whose bright idea was this?"

The hesitation was palpable, and then Thomas felt Uri step forward. He said nothing and Thomas didn't look at him, but the effect was immediate. T'Jean deflated, then raised his head and stared Thomas straight in the eye. "Mine."

Thomas nodded, acknowledging the admission. "Why did you think it'd be a good idea?"

The boy frowned, obviously confused by his lack of disapproval. "They're little, they can't... I mean, they needed some advantage, and she can't stop all of them at once."

"That would be a great strategy for a battle," Thomas told him, then pressed his tongue against the roof of his mouth and simply waited. He was bad at it, but he was willing to bet...

"But this isn't a battle?" T'Jean asked.

"No," he agreed. "It's not. Sometimes we might get a little carried away, and that's why there's a referee and video recording, of course. But we do not _plan_ to do anything that will hurt other players. That kind of play will get you all thrown out of a real game, and for good reason." He glanced at Blendi. "It's true she's got a size advantage, but that doesn't mean four on one is fair."

"But..." It was one of the smaller children. "How do we play if they're bigger and faster all the time?"

"Skill," Thomas said simply. "And they're bigger, sure, but that also makes them easier to block, doesn't it? Everything has a downside. All that stuff we get from our parents; being strong or big or fast... that helps, but in the end, it's not what makes us who we are. A good player needs to work hard because they love the game, like a good lawyer needs to study hard because they love the job." He tilted his head towards Uri and saw the children's eyes follow. "Hockey isn't a battle, is not about who's bigger, it's about who can control the puck better, who can pass and receive passes, who can block the opposite player without fouling them. And about a team with a strategy, of course," he said to T'Jean. "You definitely want a captain who plans ahead."

"Blendi," Uri asked after a slight pause for Thomas to continue speaking if he wished. "Would you accept a penalty shot in compensation?"

"He should get time out," she countered.

"What?! I already explained—"

"Stop," Uri said in a normal speaking voice, but he might as well have had a megaphone. He turned to Thomas. "What would a referee do in this case?"

"The only players that can be given a time out are the ones that actually executed the play," Thomas explained. "Blendi? Do you want them to miss five minutes of game time?"

"What? No! It was _T’Jean_ , he should—"

"How many points does your team have?"

"Five."

Her sullen response was all the answer he needed, but he asked anyway, "And them?"

"Eight. Before..." She waved toward the opposing team.

"Okay, so here's what we'll do; we're resetting the count. You're both on zero now, and you get a penalty shot." Blendi didn't look like she'd stoop to smiling but she'd straightened a little. Thomas turned to the other team. "T'Jean will defend his goal." The boy nodded at once. "And," he finished. "I'm taking away your extra players, you're captains today and you'll have to pay attention to your team and decide when you need to swap them."

Technically, it was the coaches who observed the game and made such decisions, but if they were going to strategize for the team, then they also needed to keep track of their team's needs and skills. And it was just as well to keep them busy with something other than their overblown grudge. He sent two of the younger kids from each team to seat down on the grass. “You guys should pay attention to anyone doing the wrong thing and tell me, okay?”

They liked that a lot, which Thomas had known they would, having spent years watching his teammates get fouled and forced to wait out the referees’ verdict.  

He explained the shootout procedures, reminding them high-sticking rules applied even when there was little chance of hitting anyone.

Blendi slowly bent into the position he'd taught her earlier. T'Jean just spread his legs and stared at her—Thomas had advised the first goalies, not them, but it wasn't the time to interrupt. Not when this was meant to be Blendi's opportunity to get back at her rival. T'Jean was wearing a helmet, that would have to do.

One of the kids in Blendi’s team exploded, shouting her name, and another followed. The other team took a moment to catch up and start hollering for T'Jean. Thomas laughed; if he'd wanted a realistic experience... He felt a touch on his arm and turned to look at Uri's dubious expression. "It's fine, just a little friendly competition."

Uri didn’t seem convinced but he didn’t have time to say anything before Blendi moved, striking hard and sending the tennis ball flying high. The helmet didn't quite come into it, but only because the ball arced right over T'Jean's right shoulder. He stumbled a little, reaching back, enough that he'd have probably fallen on his arse if he'd been wearing skates. But it was too late.

Blendi's team lost it, screaming her name like she'd won the World Cup. Thomas raised both arms and waved at them, but it wasn't until Blendi herself caught sight of him and pointed that he got their attention.

"Well done, Team B," he said. "Now let's get started with the game. No funny business!"

 

&

 

“Thank you for this,” Uri said once they were alone in the kitchen.

“Didn’t do it for _you_ ,” Thomas sassed. “It’s for the children, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, of course, so do I,” Uri agreed. It was true, but the look he was giving Thomas also reminded him where those lips had been.

“Uri?” someone asked from behind them. Thomas’s almost dropped the cup of tea he’d been talked into accepting and Uri sprang forward like he’d been shoved.

“What is it?

It was Kyeran. “Um, just, that was the best day ever,” the boy blurted out, his skin was too dark to show if he was blushing but the way he was looking at the floor gave away his embarrassment loud and clearly. “I wanted… to tell Thomas thank you.”

Thomas stared at him for a second before offering a raised fist. “No problem, mate, it was fun.”

Kyeran came forward and bumped fists with him, grinning wide.

“It was great,” Uri said. “But you shouldn’t be downstairs now, should you?” he added with a knowing look.

Kyeran’s face was all the answer they needed and Uri sighed and pointed to the door. “Walk. I’m not letting you out of my sight until you’re in your pyjamas.”

The boy rolled his eyes at him, meeting Thomas’s eyes across the room. “See ya!”

“See ya,” Thomas replied, grinning despite himself. Thank god for responsible adults like Uri and Colleen, if it was up to him he’d let kid stay up all night and eat ice-cream for breakfast just as long as they kept smiling.

Thomas would have gladly sat in the kitchen and waited—it was the holidays, after all—but the other man turned to him and offered an apologetic smile. “I’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

He nodded his acceptance and didn’t put any innuendo into his response even though Kyeran was already outside the room. “See you soon.”

It wouldn’t be soon enough for his taste, but he could admit this wasn’t the best setting for what he wanted to happen on their next encounter.

 

&

 

He’d suspected something of the kind was going on from the beginning, of course. Two players who could hardly _talk_ but played together like they were best friends? It was extremely odd, especially with all the ups and downs their line had gone through, which all of them had already acknowledged were Carry and Keenan’s fault. A psychic connection using their ability to perceive where the other was and what they wanted was in fact the only possible explanation, therefore it had to be true.

It was also true betas weren’t meant to poke their noses in the private businesses of alphas and omegas, since their businesses often had to do with what said alphas and omegas did in the bedroom. But if they wanted his help and were willing to come clean, Thomas was more than game. Carry and Keenan were both excellent players on their own and obviously had an advantage when playing together, but neither of them was very good at keeping their line working as a whole. It had always been Thomas’s job, and it would always be: because Carry wanted to control everyone like they were toy soldiers and Keenan expected synchronicity to come from simply practicing moves again and again.

Neither of them understood that a team was more than the sum of its parts, and that the relationship between those parts was essential for the whole machine to work.

He let himself collapse on one of the conference room chairs. “Gods, Carry, you’re such a control freak.”

Carry didn’t take offense. “He doesn’t mind.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, not that Carry noticed, of course. “Keenan might like it if you led him around with a leash, but it doesn’t mean it’s good for your hockey.”

“What do you mean?” Once again, Carry ignored the innuendo. Thomas was pretty sure he was doing that intentionally, but then again, he _had_ said the word hockey in the same sentence.

“I mean that Keenan’s a great player, more experienced than you and me as well. And if you’re in charge of all our plays, that experience and skill is getting wasted.”

“But... it means we’re much better coordinated. I mean, you saw what we can do.”

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed. “But you haven’t seen what _we_ could do.”

Carry was frowning, but Thomas let him think it through. Finally, he spoke, “We could try, I guess.”

“Excellent!” He clapped his hands together.

Carry huffed, then leaned back and called out for Keenan to come in and give them the smoothies.

“Were you just standing there like a creep?” Thomas asked, taking a sip of his. Part of the psychic business must have worked outside the ice because there was no way Cartwright Johnson had noticed another person was around before he did.

Keenan shrugged. “Just got here.”

Carry seemed too interested in his drink to call him a liar, so Thomas moved on. “So I’ve talked Carry into sharing a little, so you gotta tell me if he’s pulling on your strings too much.”

Keenan conceded with a nod. “Will do.”

He didn’t quite, not unless Thomas asked, but by the time an hour had gone by Carry’s changed attitude had done enough that Thomas could get an answer with a signed question. Carry had dutifully practiced Keenan’s strategy, then Thomas. He struggled, but then again Thomas had expected him to. The guy wanted to be in control so badly it almost hurt to see.

He also wanted to win badly enough to fight his instincts, and with a little nudge here and there he could. He grinned at Thomas after scoring on the empty goal once again off a pass so beautiful it almost hurt no one else had seen it. “That was brilliant.”

Thomas raised a hand for Carry to bump, then turned to Keenan and did the same. The other two glanced at each other instead, they were covered from head to foot in gear, surely...

Keenan skated back to centre ice, leaving Thomas feeling like he’d missed something. Then again, if being noseblind meant he wasn’t stuck with protocol... Well, he was still slightly jealous of the cool psychic connection, he would admit that much. It turned out _not_ being part of it was a great asset when it came to using it to playing hockey together, though.

“Damn, you were right,” Carry said. The world didn’t end, but Thomas gaped at him for long enough even Carry caught on. “What?! I can take advise!”

“Yeah, sure, if someone _makes_ you,” Thomas teased.

“Ugh, whatever.” Carry turned towards the changing room.

Keenan came in right behind them, detailing a play he wanted to try with an actual goalie. And then froze like he’d stuck an invisible wall before turning around to the corner where he usually changed.

“Keenan? Where’re you going?”

Their centre glanced at Carry, of bloody course. But it was fair, as far as Thomas understood it, it was up to Carry to allow this kind of intimacy from an alpha. Thomas pretended not to see the nod, feeling a bit like he was intruding. Then Keenan sat down and his intrusion was very much required to keep the conversation going as they got changed.

“Dinner?” he asked when they were done.

To his surprise, it was Carry who jumped to agree. Although maybe it was not that hard to predict the boy would glow like that at a hockey success. Thomas himself might have also been grinning like a lunatic.

 

&

 

It felt almost like they were a new line again—a line with upgraded sticks and skates whose stadium had just turned the lights up to eleven. It didn’t mean much when they were going up against the Cascades on foreign ice, but he felt good, better than he could remember feeling in a long time.

The overconfidence paid off, even when Keenan lost the face-off to Siritha Rochester—fair enough—Thomas was so set on completing the play that _he_ got it off her. Which, _fucking hell_. He hadn’t scored, leaving that two his linemates, but he was a playmaker and he’d outmanoeuvred Siritha Rochester in a final-qualifying game.

And they _won_. It almost echoed inside his brain as he got crushed by his team around Keenan and Carry. They were going to the finals, it was almost a done deal now.


	10. Chapter 10

#  Chapter Ten: Uriel

"Hey," Thomas said. The phone had only rung once before he'd picked up but that did nothing but add to Uri's nerves. Because it meant Thomas had been expecting the call, that despite Uri calling him to ask for a favour after their night together, he still—

"Hey," he replied. "How are you doing?"

"Good, leaving for Poland this afternoon."

Uri hesitated, suddenly unsure. "I... Your schedule is a bit nuts at the moment, isn't it?"

He’d looked up said schedule before calling, but somehow seeing the game on the calendar two days later, he’d assumed they’d fly out on the day. But of course you probably didn’t want to go into the ice stiff from hours on a plane and the inevitable hassles of an airport.

"It's hockey," Thomas said good-naturedly. "I can't think of anything better to do every day."

He laughed, unable to help himself. "You are such an addict."

"Yeah, well, I bet you're calling me about something related to _your_ job, so..."

"No!” He couldn’t think of anything furthest from the nightmare his client’s life had become than Thomas Kiau. Then he realised the beta must have been talking about the adoption centre, not technically his job but close enough. “Well, kinda, but..."

"But?"

"But I would call you anyway," Uri made himself say. The guy had spent a whole afternoon helping him keep teenagers in line, the least Uri could do was admit he was interested.

"Would you?" Thomas asked slow and pleased. "How did you even find my number?"

His brain froze for a second, then he told the truth, as sparsely as he could manage. "You... you gave it to me. Well, you put it in my phone."

"Yes,” Thomas agreed. “But I never _told you_ that it was there."

Uri gulped, he had no idea why he'd assumed this would never come up. Except of course, the best defence was always... "Why didn't you?"

But Thomas simply snorted. "Forgot. You're... rather distracting."

"Am I now?” Uri pushed, feeling the weakness. “My apologies."

"You must also be a great lawyer,” Thomas said easily, completely unembarrassed about his admission. “You didn't tell me how you found my number and you still haven't told me why you’re calling."

Uri sighed. It was a little odd, sure, but he didn’t think Thomas would care. "I looked you up on the net. Well, the team, and I found out your name so I added it to my phone, just... I wasn't going to do anything else, not like I could, it was _just_ your name. But then it turned out your number was already there."

"Gods above and below," Thomas said with a whistle. "Maybe I should be praying more! That's beyond any karma I have earned, for sure."

"Maybe it's my karma," Uri told him. He didn’t particularly believe in the concept—the world was a fucking awful place, why would anyone find comfort in believing they _deserved_ what happened to them was a mystery to him.

"Huh.” Thomas made a thoughtful noise. “Yeah, that would explain it; I'm sure you get extra points for helping orphans."

"Then you must be a pretty good reward," Uri continued, caught in the game. "Worthy of someone who helps orphans."

Thomas laughed that off. "Nah, think the gods figured they'd give you another chance to bag someone hot. They know even saints have their shallow side."

"I'm no saint," Uri promised him. "And you volunteered, too. They asked if you would go back, actually."

"Will you be there?" The beta asked and it was such a silly question, of course Uri would be there, but like all the previous ones, it wasn't about the information.

"Yes. Except not this weekend, which I know you won't be around for anyway."

Thomas snorted. "Stalking much?"

"Is that what you call looking up your team's game schedule?" Uri asked in his best neutral tone.

"Ugh, if you knew that, you could have waited to call. Now— Well, now I'll be _distracted_."

"Maybe I wanted you to be distracted," Uri replied, the distance and Thomas's unashamed interest getting the better of him. He did want to see Thomas distracted, whatever that looked like.

Thomas groaned. "You are such a tease, you know that? I didn't even get a kiss last time I saw you."

"Wouldn't getting just a kiss make me even more of a tease?"

"Not sure," Thomas admitted. "But you know what would make you _less_ of one? Having dinner with me."

The words sent a pulse of excitement through Uri’s already pretty agitated body. “Yeah, sure." He glanced at his diary where he'd jotted down the dates of the next games. "What about Thursday?"

"You’re looking at my calendar, aren't you?"

"I already admitted that," Uri pointed out. "Why should I pretend?"

"True, you can just keep up the stalking. I'm kinda flattered, to be honest."

Uriel groaned, both charmed and appalled. "Do _not_ tell people that, it'll get you in trouble."

"Pretty sure I'm already in trouble," Thomas shot back. "But I can't Thursday, already promised my sisters we'd go to the cinema to see the ‘The Girl King’."

“Friday?" Uri suggested at once.

"Sure," Thomas replied. "Any requests?"

He had some, but nothing he wanted to share in advance, or that related to the food. "Nah, let's see if you can choose something to impress me."

“My lord,” Thomas agreed in an unexpectedly reverent tone. “I’ll prove my devotion with the most exquisite sustenance.”

It was clearly a joke, but it made Uri shiver.

 

&

 

Serene Colleridge had been aptly named, Uri decided the moment she walked into the room. She met his eyes without hesitation, just like any alpha of equal standing would, but softened it with a smile and head tilt. It helped that she was beautiful, dark hair slickened back, falling straight down her back—dressed like a professional with heels high enough to make up for her diminutive height. Beautiful people made others relax, Uri was well aware of what studies said, and a small alpha wouldn’t have a hard time seeming unthreatening.

Somehow her scent was muted, something spicy and sour at once—not exactly off-putting but not appealing, which wasn’t uncommon with another alpha. But Claudette was at least half a head taller than her bondmate and her own scent had gone rotten sweet the moment she’d seen Serene. Everyone else in the room was a beta, but it made every muscle in Uri’s body clench at the threat to an omega in his presence. He couldn’t help it and, in this case, he didn’t _want_ to. He didn’t bother pretending—his own scent would give away his alarm at once, instead he pointed Claudette to a chair next to him, appointing himself her protector by positioning his chair slightly closer to the conference table across which sat opposing counsel. The other alpha followed the movement with a neutral expression. Her scent hadn’t changed at all, not when seeing her omega in distress at her presence, not when an alpha she’d never met adopted a protective posture towards her bondmate.

It wasn’t hard to believe this was the woman who could intentionally hurt her own mate.

Mx Yave took the seat on Claudette’s other side and cut through the polite greetings. “We’d like to make a deal.”

Mx Colleridge’s lawyer, Mx Simons, was an older beta gentleman whose dark curly hair had lightened with age, but whose eyes were sharp. “Would this deal include couples therapy?”

“No,” Mx Yave said easily. “It would include a restraining order.”

“A _restraining order_?” Mx Colleridge exclaimed, voice high and amused. “What’s this, Claudette?”

“Do not address my client,” Uriel said before Claudette could be compelled to speak.

The other alpha turned to him with wide eyes, long eyelashes fluttering. “Your client is my _bondmate_ ,” she reminded him. It was soft and compelling. It also changed nothing in her scent except to add a hint of lemon—another alpha would never smell attractive but Uri hadn’t met anyone whose scent was this static. It was more like perfume than an expression of her psyche.

“Be that as it may,” Yave said pleasantly. “There is a reason there are lawyers in the room, Mx Colleridge. So please follow our instructions so we can serve you to the best of our ability.”

Simons cleared his throat. “Mx Colleridge’s ome—”

“Claudette,” the woman in question said, speaking for the first time. Colleridge was, of course, her own family name, which she had given her bondmate when they’d exchanged vows. She, in turn, had legally changed her own to the alpha’s. At the moment, only her given name had no associations to the person she was trying so hard to escape.

Simons paused. “Claudette, then. You have filed for divorce, which is your right,” he continued. “But there’s no need—”

“I’ll give up the house, the car,” she blurted out. “Everything.”

Yave reached out and gently placed his fingertips on top of her forearm. She went tense but stopped speaking. “The deal, as I was saying, will be extremely beneficial to your client. The one thing my client wants is a permanent separation. This will require your client to renounce custody of the children and never contact any of them again, but it will entitle her to all of the shared properties and assets Mx Colleridge originally possessed before their union.”

“This is absurd,” Mx Colleridge almost spat. “Are you suggesting I give up my mate and children for some _assets_?” she asked, voice dripping with disdain. “Is this your idea of revenge, dear?” she added.

The omega’s scent crescendoed into something Uri couldn’t describe as anything but vomit. When he turned, he saw she was trembling slightly, holding her hands on her laps so tightly her knuckles had gone white, bent over like she was one second from curling up to protect her middle.

“Claudette,” Uri whispered, softly enough he didn’t think Simons and Yave could hear it over their rising argument over Mx Colleridge’s inability to follow instructions. “Why don’t you go outside?”

She exhaled loudly, turning her head just enough she could see him out of the corner of her eye. “So you alphas can decide my life for me?”

“She wants you here,” Uri explained, not addressing the accusation. “I can use that.”

Claudette hesitated for a long moment, then pushed back her chair and stood. “Excuse me, I need the lavatory.”

With that, she turned and walked out of the conference room.

For the first time, her alpha’s scent changed: burnt and metallic. Uriel had been right. Maybe it didn’t matter how much of a psychopath the woman was, she was still subject to her instincts to some degree. She might not have been capable of loving her omega, but she certainly wanted to keep her.

“Mx Yave,” Uri said. The lawyers had lowered their voices, and his request got his boss’s attention at once. He didn’t think either of them realised it was an alpha’s dominance getting them to react that way. Uri was certainly not going to enlighten them; he was uncomfortable enough using it even for a good cause. “Perhaps we can review those clauses you found in the bonding contract?”

“Bonding contract?” Simons repeated, turning to his client. “You did not submit your copy to us, did you, Mx Colleridge?”

“No,” she said tightly, her gaze sweeping the room aimlessly for her absent mate. “I did not think it was necessary. Claudette and I just need to go back to therapy. Maybe she could have a little holiday, I’ll take some time off work and look after the children so she can relax.”

Yave ignored this. “According to your bonding contract; all assets brought into the marriage—”

“Bond,” Mx Colleridge corrected with a smile that a was a little too sharp.

“Yes, quite,” Yave agreed. “In any case…” They looked down at the tablet. “All assets would revert to their original owner in case the bond was ever dissolved, while any assets acquired during the course of the union would be equally divided between the partners.”

“I will not sign the dissolution,” Mx Colleridge said serenely. “So none of this is relevant.”

“Mx Colleridge,” Simons jumped in. “We are trying to reach an agreement—”

“There is no agreement in which I give up Claudette,” she interrupted with ease, eyes on Uri like she couldn’t even see the betas in the room.

“If that is your position, then of course we’ll have to go to court,” Yave calmly replied. “But let me point out that if we do, your bondmate will be presenting charges.”

“Charges?” she snorted. “For what? For taking my own children on holiday?”

“It hardly matters,” Yave told her. “Because when you lose, you will not just lose your mate and your children, you’ll lose the house she’s offering you now. Hades, if we get a sympathetic judge, you might do time. What would that do to your career, Mx Colleridge?”

“Do not count your eggs before they hatch, Mx Yave,” Simons said curtly. “Since your client has removed herself from this meeting, we’ll do the same.” He got to his feet and offered a hand, which Yave shook. “We’ll be in touch.”

Yave and Uriel stood up, Uriel reaching the door to open it for their guests. Serene was the first to cross the doorway and when she looked at Uri, she’d dropped her shocked lover façade; what lay underneath wasn’t fear or even concern, instead her eyes were bright with pleasure—a promise that Uri had not doubt she could fulfil; he was going to regret getting between her and what she wanted, and she would _enjoy_ making him regret it.

 

&

 

After a day like that, there was nowhere for Uri to go but home. Esti was out, but Ruth opened her arms and let him hold her as soon as she saw him. He held on, knowing he was welcomed, and she didn’t waver on the strength of her own embrace.

Finally, he inhaled her familiar scent and loosened his hold. She kept hold of his hand as he stepped back. “Work?” she checked.

He nodded, suddenly feeling like his knees were about to give up. “Come on,” she asked, tugging at his hand to lead him to the kitchen. “You chose a good day to visit, I’m making varenikes.”

He plopped down on his chair in the kitchen, then turned it to face the counter where Ruth was rushing to remove the onions from the fire before they burned. She put the kettle on without asking, then returned to the table and took her chair on his right, taking hold of his hand again. “You look awful,” she said with all her usual tact.

“Thanks, imah,” Uri replied, but he was smiling a little. This was the place were awful could be faced, and defeated.

Ruth rolled her eyes at him like she didn’t know she was almost sixty. “Out with it.”

“It’s this case…” He looked away and caught the kettle flashing. “Lemme make tea first.”

She let him go and got up as well, taking the time to mix some of the onions into the mashed potato mixture that would go inside the dumplings.

Uri carefully poured the water into each of their mugs, then mixed the bag once in his mum’s cup and removed it before the tea could do more than colour. Everyone in the family teased Ruth that she didn’t drink tea but stained water. He passed it over and she pushed it to the back of the counter as she rolled out the dough.

“Toda,” she told him. _Thanks_. It was how she’d introduced David and him to Hebrew, but she’d waited a bit too long for them to get more than a few phrases. They’d both been six when their mums had found them—originally intending to get just one child and then unable to give up either of them once their paths had crossed—and it’d taken them a while to get used to the idea that they had a new family and that family was there to stay.

He was a little sorry he’d missed the chance, but mostly he was grateful he’d got as much as he did, that he was saying words his people had been repeating for thousands of years in hopes there was someone out there listening.

Sometimes that was all you got, the vague hope that there was someone listening.

And sometimes you got someone who was listening, who’d always listen. He wasn’t sure if there was a God listening, but he would be grateful for them until the day he died.

“It’s an omega who wants to divorce her alpha. But not just divorce, she wants to go through a repudiation.”

Ruth paused, turning to look at him. “A repudiation?” she repeated, putting down the rolling pin. “I’ve never…” She seemed unable to find the words.

“She’s right,” Uri told her. “She— Her alpha is… awful,” he finished, feeling like he’d failed at explaining. “She…” He exhaled, taking a sip of his drink. It was still too hot but he didn’t care. “Her name’s Claudette and she’s terrified of her alpha. And when I met the alpha today I got why: she really doesn’t care if she hurts her. No,” he corrected, “I think she _enjoys_ hurting her.”

“But surely she can feel whatever her omega feels?”

Uri opened his mouth, then closed it again, shaking his head. “Yes, she should, but…” He met his mum’s eyes. “When Claudette walked into the room her scent went awful, but her alpha? She didn’t blink; her scent was still the same.”

Ruth sighed, taking her cup and downing a gulp of tea like it was something much stronger. “You think she’s somehow neurodivergent; she can’t feel empathy.”

“I don’t know, maybe she can’t feel _pain_. But whatever it is, she’s toying with my client, and she’s not going to stop.”

Ruth was nursing her cup like she expected to find an answer in its depths, still leaning against the countertop but clearly having given up on the dough. “Do you have a way to stop her?”

“Yeah, I mean, we think so…” He exhaled, trying to remind himself of Yave’s calm explanation. “Claudette’s the one with the money. The house was hers and if they divorce it’ll revert to her. I’m thinking that might be why this alpha went for her in the first place… so maybe…”

“And if not, you’ll take her to court,” Ruth declared with confidence.

“Yeah,” Uriel said, but he didn’t have her confidence. Anything could happen in court, especially if they got assigned a jury, which in a case such as this was likely. He thought alphas and omegas would be able to tell that there was something wrong with Colleridge, but hadn’t Claudette _bonded_ to her in the first place? She must have been able to fake it way better than she had at the meeting, and of course most alphas and omegas thought divorces were a tragedy and even betas knew enough to be repulsed by repudiation...

“Good,” his mum concluded. “Then there’s nothing you can do right now. Time to put away the suit and get ready to cut some more onions.”

He grimaced, but he took his cuppa to his old room to find some sweats anyway.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it all begins to unravel... Also, Thomas's sisters time!

#  Chapter Eleven: Thomas

Thomas turned off his reader with a sigh; he hoped Carry and Keenan were smart enough not to read their own press. They had to know the chances of the press missing out on a juicy bit of gossip like that celebratory hug were less than zero.

It was stupid, and more than a little unfair, but it was also Thomas’s day off.

Going out without their parents was a rare treat for Thomas and his siblings. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Thomas and Colleen to look after the younger girls, of course, but they did suspect their two older children had acquired interests they’d not approve of out in the wider world.

They were absolutely right, naturally.

It also meant Valentina was a little too excited for a child who had still not been bought any sweet treats—something the children were only allowed in special occasions.

“Val!” Eira said with a sigh, tugging at her hand. At nine, Val was normally perfectly capable of independent movement but Thomas couldn’t blame Eira for keeping hold of her today. “Calm down, will you? If you stop at every shop, we won’t have time to buy snacks before the film begins.”

Colleen stepped closer and tugged at Val’s ear. “Behave and we’ll do some shopping after the film,” she promised with a wink.

Grace shot Colleen an annoyed look at that, then met Thomas’s eyes in a clear bid for help. He shrugged, then signed an offer for ice-cream. You couldn’t stop Colleen from shopping, or more likely, shop-browsing, but he and Grace could take off and enjoy a different type of treat. Eira had always joined them, but being a teenager had awakened her interest in fashion somewhat because she’d taken advantage of Colleen’s expertise the last time they’d been over.

Thomas wondered if when Grace grew up, he’d end up sitting in a corner on his own.

The film was good, he could tell the moment the young actress playing the king was introduced and became more convinced with each passing moment. Once the sword fighting came on, even Val, who’d been more invested in her disturbing combination of salty popcorn and sweet chocolate buttons, had leaned forward.

He came out of the room with that strange otherworldly feeling really good fiction produced—like he’d been in another world and suddenly stumbled into his own. It seemed strange it was not 5395 and an alpha woman was an everyday occurrence no one would blink at, let alone call unnatural.

“Malin Buska’s actually an alpha,” Colleen offered. It was just the kind of thing Colleen tended to know.

“The actress?” Eira checked.

“Yeah, it’s mostly betas in cinema, of course, even playing alphas and omegas… Less drama or something,” Colleen added with disdain. Her liberal views extended to the whole world, regardless of how very dramatic their alpha and omega parents were every single day of their lives.

“I want to be an alpha,” Valentina announced.

Grace snorted. “You can’t choose, silly.”

Thomas was about to try to diffuse the situation when Colleen clapped her hands and pointed at the toilet. “Anyone need to go?”

They’d all had rather a lot of snacks and drinks so they headed inside together. Thomas came out first and he was still washing his hands when Eira joined him at the sinks.

“So… are you going shopping?”

She paused to give him an unimpressed look. “No, why would I?”

“You went last time,” he pointed out, passing over a paper towel. “Don’t shoot me for asking.”

“I had to buy a present for Simone,” Eira explained. “She likes jewellery, so…”

“Ah, well, guess I’m getting schooled on cleaner engines again,” he said good-naturedly.

“We’re focusing on chemistry at the moment,” Grace corrected him as she came out of her stall. “But I think you’ll find it interesting; we’re trying to predict if we’ll present.”

“Oh.” Thomas swallowed hard. He could just imagine his parents’ reaction if none of their five children presented either alpha or omega. Beta girls could for the most part have biological children, but Thomas didn’t think that would be enough. “Is it likely?”

He followed them out of the toilet to leave space for other people. “Well—” Grace started, but Eira shushed her.

“Let’s wait until we get to the ice-cream parlour, if Colleen hears about this we’ll have a debate for an hour,” Eira said.

It was probably true, too. Thomas adored Colleen but she did have trouble with data that didn’t acknowledge its profound social bias. Just then, Val came running out, bursting with energy. “Ice-cream?” she reminded Thomas with wide eyes. He’d promised and besides, there was no way to resist that look.

“You’re getting a small cone,” Colleen warned, and counteracted Valentina’s wounded look with a raised eyebrow. “We can’t go into the shops with food.”

 

&

 

Once they were all served, Colleen got Val to sit down long enough for them all to talk over the movie a little more, but she wasn’t completely immune to the puppy eyes either and, in truth, she enjoyed shopping too much to waste the opportunity.

“Finally!” Grace said as soon as they were out of earshot.

Thomas gave her a look.

“Sorry, I just… I really wanna tell you about this, and since Eira won’t let me talk about it in front of Colleen…”

“I love Colleen,” Eira said. “But I think… Well, I think she wouldn’t want to hear this.”

So it wasn’t about Colleen ranting about equality and bias, then. “Why not?”

“Because our calculations say she’d have presented alpha.”

“Really?” Thomas was shocked. “Are you sure about this?”

“No, of course not, Thomas, I’m fifteen,” Eira said annoyed, which was funny because she’d get equally annoyed if her data was questioned on that basis, but Thomas let it go, he was far more interested in what she’d discovered. “I… We’ve been reading through case studies. If the first male child of an alpha/omega couple is a beta, the likelihood of the second male child being an alpha goes from about 30% to 60%.”

“Fuck,” he said softly. “Whatever you do, you can’t let them know about this.”

At this, Eira’s annoyance shifted into actual anger. She put down her spoon into her cup and looked away. “Sorry!” he added. “I know you know that, I just—”

“We know,” Grace interceded. “You took care of her. You helped her when they didn’t want her to have the hormones in case she’d present.”

He gave a tight nod, unable to speak. If Eira and Grace were right, it meant he’d done the right thing. That the screaming fights and relentless demands that had practically destroyed his relationship with both his parents… It’d been worth it. The treatments for gender dysphoria didn’t work well with alpha hormones, which was why it was essential to identify it as early as possible and put the child on blockers. Thomas was willing to bet it’d been the first thing they’d asked when Colleen had got her diagnosis.

He hadn’t know, of course, he’d only been thirteen. He’d only known she’d come home from the psychologist crying when she’d left excited to get some answers.

“Thomas?” Eira asked, putting a hand on his wrist. “You okay?”

He blinked, trying to dispel the excessive moisture in his eyes. “Yes. Just—”

“It’s too late, anyway,” his sister told him softly. “Even if Colleen went off her hormones now, she wouldn’t present.”

He gave her a tight nod, and pushed some ice-cream into his mouth, wincing when he realised he’d mixed the lemon and chocolate.

“The good news is,” Grace said in her best academic’s tone, “that Val might get her wish. If older children don’t present, there’s more than a 50% chance the youngest will.”

“She could be an omega,” Thomas pointed out.

“Val?” Eira asked with a laugh.

“You should meet Carry,” Thomas replied. “He’d give you some new ideas about what omegas are like.”

Eira groaned. “Not you too!” she complained.

In truth, having met Carry, it was hard for Thomas to disagree with their hopes Val would be an alpha. A woman like Kristina of Sweden, in control of her own fate. Not someone who distrusted the world so much he could hardly accept Thomas’s sincere offers of friendship.

It didn’t matter to him, of course, just like it hadn’t mattered that Colleen’s treatment would almost guarantee she wouldn’t present and most definitely couldn’t have biological children. He was no alpha, but they were his to protect.

 

&

 

Thomas hated his parents’ obsession with protocol, to the extent where if it was up to them even betas would have followed it—women behaving like omegas and men behaving like alphas. For them, it was like the last two centuries of progress had not happened. The likelihood of women presenting alpha and men presenting omega was nothing but a minor inconvenience to the strict binary system that had guided humanity since the beginnings of time.

But despite that, he liked the way protocol added a layer of excitement and subtlety to flirting. For betas, protocol was just a game, really. And he was pretty sure Uriel liked it too; he hadn’t missed the way the other man had inhaled like he’d been punched when he’d called him ‘my lord’. And opening doors was just good manners, even if it made Uri’s eyes flicker his way nervously.

“After you,” Thomas told him with a smile and followed him inside the restaurant he’d selected.

“Looks nice,” Uriel said as Thomas put a hand on the slow of his back to guide him inside. The gesture also startled him, even though it wasn’t an undue intimacy from someone you’d slept with. Maybe Thomas was just confusing him by trying to take control when he’d been offering his submission a moment earlier.

It was not really such a nice place, but it had the best sushi in London and fish seemed pretty safe if Uri kept kosher, which Thomas had neglected to ask him about. He said as much now; the place was small enough it had paper menus and if they had to leave, then they’d better do it before the waiter got to their table.

Uri’s face brightened into a smile, even as he explained, “Actually, kosher doesn’t allow prawn.”

“Oh, dammit, so…”

But his concerns were waved away. “I don’t keep kosher; except for Pesach and that’s mostly because my mothers always sent me home with tons of food. Also, fighting oppression is kind of my thing.”

Thomas laughed, disbelieving and charmed, because there weren’t many people in 5888 who’d say that with a straight face. And mean it. “In that case, I should get a point because this place is owned by actual Japanese people, not someone trying to appropriate their culture.”

He was quoting Colleen almost verbatim, which meant maybe Eira was right about him picking up his sister’s obsessive tendency to overanalyse. Of course, he was on a date with a guy who’d just claimed fighting oppression like a hobby, so who was he to say she was overdoing it?

“Mmm…” Uri considered. “You can get points because it’s owned by immigrants,” he conceded. “Cultural appropriation is a bit murky for me to rule on without proper context.”

“But you can surely sure on the definite _lack_ of it, can’t you, your honour?” Thomas pushed, adding a subtle bit of wetting his lips to the honorific.

Uri definitely caught it because his nod was a little bit too slow. “I guess…” He stopped and turned towards the approaching waiter. Thomas was almost offended he’d had enough attention to spare to notice someone else, but he did want to order.

He didn’t come here often enough to be recognized, but he was still slightly surprise when Uri was asked for his order first. Not that it mattered, they were sharing platters anyway.

“So your mums are social justice warriors who can also cook like goddesses?” he asked when they were alone again.

Uri laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’d be an appropriate description for the biopic. In real life, Esti is a social _worker_ and Ruth teaches philosophy at Goldsmith’s.”

“Philosophy?” he repeated. He wondered what that would lead to at home; had Uri always been allowed to ask why things were the way they were? To question why the rules were different for different people? “That explains a lot.”

“Guess it does.” Uri’s smile was almost shy again.

Thomas was seriously tempted to lean over and lick it off his mouth. He looked down at the menu the waiter had forgotten to take instead. “My father owns a mining company.”

“Oh,” Uri said, which was about as much as Thomas could have thought to ask about the matter. Minerals weren’t sexy, they weren’t even interesting enough for Thomas to know about them. His father had made a good attempt to groom him to take over the company when he grew older, but it hadn’t taken. At the moment, it seemed like that would be more Eira’s gig—although she liked the science a lot more than any kind of administrative position and what branch of science seemed to shift from week to week, too. “Can he cook?”

Thomas looked up to snort. “He can manage, which I only know because we— we used to watch sports together on Saturdays, when I was little. My dad would take my sisters out so we could have some father-son time.”

Father- _sons_ time, of course, which maybe had made the whole thing a lot more awkward than it would have been if it had been just Thomas and his father. They did both love sports, even if his father had never truly approved of it as a profession, it’d been his idea that Thomas try it out as a hobby in the first place. He’d been proud of his skill, back then.

“That sounds nice,” Uri said. He sounded almost gentle, like he could somehow tell…

“It was,” he offered in turn. “Just… didn’t last.”

Colleen had tried. But she’d never been quite able to follow multiple players on a screen—it took her some effort even to watch his games live—and their father had never liked any less populated sports like tennis. When it’d been time to choose a sport to participate in as part of their parents’ ideas of social development, she’d gone for martial arts, which their dad had loved. But then, of course…

Uri hesitated, then pointed his head to the side to indicate the arrival of their food. Thomas thanked the waiter and asked for some wasabi on the side, then started pointing out his favourite types.

His date let him chatter on, but when he looked up back up his expression was serious. “Thomas, you don’t have to talk about it.”

“I…” The words seemed stuck in his throat. He didn’t know if he _didn’t_ want to talk about it. He didn’t know if he could… do this, for real, and not share this part of his history. But it wasn’t _his_ to share, was it? It hadn’t happened to him, he’d just been… a supporting character.

“But you can, any time,” Uri added, the offer as sincere as it was simple. Like the kindness cost him nothing, when Thomas knew kindness cost one dearly.

He gave a shaky nod, all the thanks he could manage.

Uri didn’t ask for more. “I don’t think I told you, but you’re totally Kyeran’s new hero. Maybe we should get you that cape…”

 

&

 

Once he’d managed to start speaking normally again, the date had gone swimmingly well, but that didn’t mean he was making any assumptions about what would happen after dessert.

“I got some wine, if you have time to tell me if it’s any good,” he told Uri over coffee.

Uri paused in his stirring, glancing up at him with a carefully neutral expression. He’d clearly understood what Thomas meant.

“Or I could save it for another night,” Thomas added. He was dying to get his hands on the man again, but he wasn’t about to forget how careful Uri had been with him earlier. If he needed more time…

“White or red?”

“Both,” Thomas told him, not quite able to hold back his smile.

It didn’t really matter, Uri seemed just as helpless.

The wine could have been green for all the use they gave it. They’d taken a bus from the restaurant and Uri had jogged up the stairs with him so he was still a little breathless by the time Thomas got his apartment door open.

It didn’t stop him from walking right in and stepping close enough to seal their mouths together. Thomas put his arms around him without a second thought and tongues got involved pretty quickly after that. The only sounds were that of their skin sliding together, and the hitch of their breaths as they found a good angle or a sensitive spot.

He wanted to lick him everywhere, put his hands all over him, _inside him_.

But there was one particular activity he’d been thinking about the longest. He bit Uri’s lip hard enough for him to feel it and used his surprise to take the step back he needed to fall to his knees.

“Wh—?” His lover’s hands scrabbled to keep hold of him, and Thomas exhaled out a laugh when his shirt ended up around his armpits. Uri let go, hands in the air like he was being robbed.

Thomas glanced up to meet Uri’s wide eyes, then deliberately looked down at his crotch. When he checked again, Uri was still staring. “Let me?” Thomas asked him. Just asked, no licking his lips or sultry looks. He didn’t know what brought it on, but he could see the hesitancy.

Uri nodded and let his eyes fall closed. His hands were against the wall, just like he’d made Thomas keep his own when he’d done this that first night. That was more than fine with him. He lowered the zip and drank in the sight and the relieved sigh from above in equal measure before pressing his nose to the damp cotton and inhaling the musky scent of arousal. Uri’s cock jumped under his cheek, hot to the touch even through his boxers, and Thomas couldn’t resist rubbing his face against it. He pulled back but Uri couldn’t seem to resist following. Thomas almost let him, but he didn’t want _anything_ in between them for this so he gave the bulge a soft open mouthed suck and took firm hold of his lover’s hipbones, forcing him back until his buttocks met the wall. The whine he got in answer was hard to decipher but Uri’s hands clenching against the wall were answer enough; he pulled the cloth down, dress trousers and underwear both. Then he went for it, catching the head for his first taste, salty and sour and thick. Uri’s breath caught audibly and his whole body went tense and, for a moment Thomas thought he might come. Somehow, he pulled back from the edge, panting harshly but not saying anything as Thomas opened his mouth and pressed a wet kiss to the base. It was lucky he was still holding him because even such a short touch got Uri’s hips bucking.

Thomas shushed his apologies. “I got you,” he promised and bent his right arm at the elbow so he could press his forearm against his lover’s thigh and take hold of the base of his cock with the same hand. Uri looked down at that, face flushed enough to be seen in the low lights of the city coming through the window, and Thomas flexed his muscles in demonstration. “I got you,” he repeated.

Then he bent down and sucked the head of Uri’s cock back into his mouth, eyes closing as the flavour burst into his tongue and slick flesh rubbed enticingly against his palate. He had to push Uri back at once, both arms straining against the strength of the other man’s body, but Uri’s movements were a reflex with little intent behind them and Thomas had trained his body thoroughly for a long time. The only real difficulty lay in controlling his own reflex to hold onto Uri’s cock instead of stroking it, but after a few fumbled attempts, he managed to coordinate his mouth and his hand so he could breathe and Uri’s dick would always get the stimulation it needed.

“ _Thomas_.” He knew the pitch of the word, what it pleaded for, what was needed. If he’d been as good at this as Uri, it’d have been long over, but there was something he’d been holding back that Uri’s now slumped body gave him the courage to try. He took his hand away from the base and put his own fingers into his mouth to get them as wet as possible, as much with Uri’s prejaculate as with his own spit. Before the other man could quite catch on, he put his mouth right back on his cock and slid his fingers between his spread legs, cupping his sack and pressing the tips against his hole.

Uriel jolted like he’d been electrocuted, thrusting hard enough Thomas had to dig his nails in to hold on and inhale sharply through his nose as his throat was blocked. The throbbing length of Uri’s erection seemed like too much to take for a moment, but the man instinctively pulled back to thrust again, and then he was coming. Thomas let go of his balls in a haste to get his hand back on his hip, keeping his eyes tightly closed even as he struggled to suck down as much of his seed as he could manage. It wasn’t enough; he could feel the mess of it on his cheeks and sliding down his neck. But he didn’t want to give up. Not yet, not if… Uri’s hand, so docile against the wall so far, tangled in his hair to pull him back from his crotch just in time for his cock to jerk again and yet more come to paint Thomas’s shoulder.

Thomas stared at it, mouth tasting salty and mind too scattered to figure out what he wanted. He only noticed he was hard when Uri collapsed to his own knees by his side and put a hand to his own erection, the other tilting his head so he could lick his own release off Thomas cheeks and neck. Thomas swayed in his hold, reaching out for his lover’s arm to keep his balance just in time to hold on as Uri got his hand inside his trousers and around his cock.

He was never going to last long, but when Uri pushed him onto his back and collected some of his come with his other hand before using that to jerk him off, it was all Thomas could do to lay back and shove through the tight grip a couple of times before his world went white and black as his brain overloaded.

The wet washcloth against his skin woke him, which, he realised, meant he’d actually lost consciousness. Fuck, that had been good. Strange, too, he was still covered in come, as much as he’d have expected if he hadn’t swallowed any. But amazing. He met Uri’s eyes and the other man paused. “You okay?”

Thomas laughed, wincing a little at the rasp in his throat. “Oh, no, I’m terrible,” he joked, stopping to swallow. “You just literally fucked my lights out.”

Uri smiled back, still a little unsure and passed him the towel, which was already a fucking loss. Thomas took it from him mostly because he didn’t want to put it anywhere else, not even the floor. He extended an arm and Uri took it at once, pulling him to his feet. They stayed close together afterwards and when their gazes met, it was impossible for them not to kiss. Uri let out a soft growl, probably tasting himself in Thomas’s mouth still. If he hadn’t put his hand right against the sticky skin of his throat, Thomas would have probably gone again right away.

As it was, he stepped back and held up his hands. “Shower,” he declared with a grimace and turned towards the bathroom. It only took him three steps to realise he wasn’t being followed.

When he turned around, Uri seemed almost embarrassed, which was beyond ridiculous. But Thomas had his number, he raised his eyebrows. “Coming?”

He was.

 

&

 

Thomas had been taught that if he visited someone he was courting, he should bring them a present. The only thing that’d stopped him the first time around was the fact that despite all the flirting and regardless of the smoking hot sex, he’d been invited to coach a team of teenagers and he knew all too well how fast a reputation could go with kids. He was ready to put himself out there for Uriel, but he preferred not to do in front of an audience.

But this time he was ready.

Nothing too fancy, just a thoughtful detail. This wasn't exactly a visit and Uri and he weren't dating... But they had gone on one date so far, and it’d gone well—if he did say so himself. And he was a flexible guy, so he'd ordered three dozen boxes of donuts and sweet pastries to be delivered to the centre in the early afternoon. He still remembered Val’s glee at the chocolate buttons he’d got for her at the cinema, even if he still kind of regretted buying her ice-cream afterwards. If one thing was true in the world, it was that no child could resist sugar.

And then he’d seen Kyeran's face and known he'd fucked up. He looked around until he found Uri speaking quietly to T'Jean's friend Tim. He'd only taken one step in their direction when the other man glanced up as if feeling his approach. Thomas cut his eyes across the room, then discretely signed {K} against his chest.

Tim bumped fists with Uri and gave Thomas a nod, leaving them alone in the corner. "So how I did fu—" he cut himself off, realising his voice was too loud.

"Kyeran's diabetic," Uri explained in a normal tone. "We should—"

"I'll call the bakery," Thomas interrupted. "They might even have the information on their website…"

Uri pulled him back by the arm before he could pull his phone out. "We should ask him,” he said firmly. “He might have had a treat earlier, that’s all."

"The biscuits," Thomas realised. "Man, I didn't—"

"You didn't know," Uri told him firmly. "And he manages just fine with the pump, he's only got dizzy once that I have seen."

Thomas nodded. "Okay, if there's anything..."

Uriel smiled at him, squeezing his arm. "You've done a lot already; he's just spent a whole day playing hockey thanks to you."

"It was my pleasure," he said, and he didn't even mean it as anything but the plain, unvarnished truth. He was sore and his ears were ringing but he'd had fun with the kids, not just with Uri. He thought he’d keep doing this, as long as it didn’t interfere with the Flames’ schedule, even if… But the warmth of Uri’s touch still lingered on his arm, and why not have his cake and eat it?

Thomas made himself go back to mingling, getting a donut of his own before finding Jamil. "Jamil, right?"

Her dark eyes were sceptical. "Yes."

Thomas kept eating his donut. "You should take over as captain next time we play. Give Blendi a break."

"Why? She's good at it," she said almost sharply. Thomas wasn’t sure if she was Blendi’s age or younger, but then again, between hormonal blockers and replacements, looks were deceiving. Hades, looks were _always_ deceiving.

"Sure, and she's a good striker, but you don't find out what you're good at until you try it. I was a d-man when I was a kid."

"Because you're big?"

"Nah, I wasn't big back then. The coaches always try everyone out in different positions, it doesn't matter if you stick with it, it's good to know what the other person is seeing from there, you know? That's why I make defence and offence switch places."

Jamil made a thoughtful noise. "Makes sense."

"Glad you agreed," Thomas told her cheekily.

 

&

 

After the kids had eaten their share—Kyeran limiting himself to half a chocolate torsade and getting a Tupperware to save the other half for latter—Thomas started to feel a bit guilty about the mess they'd made of the dining room.

But the two caretakers who came to take over waved him and Uri away when they tried to help. "Go!" The pretty dark skinned one ordered. "We actually get paid for this and we just got caught up on a lot of paperwork while you babysat."

"And hopefully they'll be tired enough to agree to go to bed on time without making a fuss," the older one added with a rueful smile.

Thomas knew when not to argue with experience so he followed Uri the way they'd come, picking up his coat on the way out. "That—"

"You—" Uri said at the same time. Thomas turned to him, already grinning, and raised his chin in invitation. The man's lips were upturned, but he had to swallow before speaking. "You were great with them."

"Was I?" Thomas licked his lips, unlatching the gate before turning to face him again. "Tell me more."

Uri rolled his eyes at him, but his voice was serious when he responded, “Well, last time, you said that thing about inborn ability and how we hone our skills, how only the things we teach ourselves don't have any downsides..."

Thomas grinned. "That was good, wasn't it?"

“Yeah, I heard Jamil reminding Sira of it earlier,” Uri explained, his smile made Thomas’s heart swell. "Not completely true," Uri added, turning left towards the train station. Thomas wasn’t sure why he was getting walked back and forth, but it wasn’t like he was going to complain about the chance to spend time together without their tiny chaperones.

"What?"

"Well, once you learn to see something, you can't stop seeing it.” He adjusted his carrier bag. “And that's a disadvantage sometimes."

"Ignorance is bliss? Really?" He frowned, unexpectedly annoyed. It wasn't like Thomas was a scholar, but he didn't like lies and pretence—the truth hurt, but at least it hurt for a _reason_.

"No, but knowledge has a price," Uriel countered, casually putting a hand on Thomas's side to get him out of the way of a wheelchair. Thomas let himself be guided closer to the gutter. "So it has a downside, like everything else."

"I guess this is why I didn't take philosophy for my A Levels," he joked, looking down. The hand on his hip tightened, forcing him to stop walking. He looked up.

Uriel shook his head. "Don't do that, it was a lovely speech, and it _was_ true, just... not completely. And... it was more than true, it was _good_. It— It was like a story, made-up, but saying something real they could use."

Thomas stared at him, the yearning to be closer so intense it felt like need. "How do you feel about PDA?"

"What?"

"I'm going to kiss you now," Thomas clarified, and when Uriel didn't move away, he put his own hands on the man's shoulders and leaned down to press their mouths together. It'd only been a few days and he still groaned with relief. He felt hands around his waist, pressing them together and turning as his tongue was sucked into Uri’s mouth with a sound Thomas never wanted to leave his ears.

“How dare you indulge in your ridiculous games in a public street?!” The voice was furious enough to penetrate the fog of lust in his mind. He didn’t quite let go, turning his head to see the speaker. He was more concerned with the way Uri had gone rigid under him. “It’s just a kiss,” he told the old woman—for once he was making assumptions. “What—?”

“Just a kiss?!” she spat, looking as disgusted as if he’d been speaking of cannibalism.

“Thomas,” Uri said gently, and he turned to look at him. He looked… pale. Upset. Not that Thomas wasn’t, but it didn’t make any _sense_. He didn’t— “Can we go?”

He couldn’t refuse him that, not when he so clearly needed it, so he hurried down the street, not touching anymore and feeling every inch between them.


	12. Chapter 12

# Chapter Twelve: Uriel

Thomas was obviously confused, but he acceded to his request at once anyway. “Sure,” he said, and dragged Uri down the street at a trot. At the station, he went to one of the drink dispensers at once. “What do you like that has some sugar in it? Caffeine would be good too.”

“Cold tea,” Uri replied quietly. Thomas got him a carton, put the straw in for him and handed it over before heading back to get himself a ginger ale.

They drank in silence, ignoring the people pressing their IDs to the meter-reader to get into the trains and those coming out in a rush to get to work or, most likely on a Saturday, to a date or a party.

“You okay?” Thomas asked when Uri crushed his carton and popped it right back into the machine to be recycled. The beta was still nursing his own drink, and there was something careful about the way he was leaning against the wall, posture open and height not as obvious.

Uri inhaled. This was it, he’d have to tell him, and then… “I just—”

“I’d never met a racist,” Thomas blurted out. “It’s just— It’s 5888!”

“You think that’s—?” he started to ask, but Thomas had a lot more energy than him.

“Well, I don’t know,” he continued. He was glancing around the station as if he suspected any other random passer-by could unexpectedly react outrageously. “But whatever it was, she was nuts,” he declared, looking at Uri only to roll his eyes. “It’s always the same, isn’t it? Thinking you can decide who other people can love, or date,” he added a little too quickly. “It’s all the same prejudice. It’s pretty shitty even when you’re a kid, but at least you know that’s gonna be over eventually; and it’s your parents who get to choose for you, which is not… well, it’s not a perfect system, but somebody’s gotta look out for you when you’re a horny thirteen year old, I guess.”

Uri swallowed. He could see the opening so clearly here: he just had to tell Thomas the truth and Thomas would say… Except that just because Thomas could accept alphas and betas dating—and that was just extrapolation—that didn’t mean it’d be his first choice for himself. He’d already got shouted at by a stranger for it, which was why Uri normally _didn’t do PDA_. His beta partners had accepted the necessity because they’d known, but with Thomas… He didn’t want to be just an alpha, a guy for a fun time, at most a companion on the road—like Sun had called him—when what he was looking for…

Thomas stepped up to him and traced his stubbled jaw. “Pretty wild choice for a fourth date,” he told him, eyes smiling but lips pressed a little too tight for true relaxation.

“Fourth?” Uri asked, feeling like he couldn’t quite align his words and his thoughts.

“Sure, we went to that concert and then hoverboarding on our first,” Thomas reminded him with a little squeeze on his arm. He looked down at Uri’s mouth and added in a rough voice, “And then you blew my mind.” Then he licked his lips and raised his eyes right to Uri’s again. “And then our second was kind of a group date, but I had a great time. And then I took you to a new level of ecstasy… with the sushi.”

Uri clenched his fists and exhaled loudly, trying to get the scent of him out of his nose and mouth—a little sweaty, and sweet from some cream he used, and just… Thomas. If he didn’t control himself, they were going to end up right where they’d been a few minutes before, and then… He gently took hold of Thomas’s upper arms and pushed him back a step. “I don’t… Not a fan of PDA, actually,” he offered apologetically.

“Oh.” Thomas took a further step back at once. “I’m sorry, I’m— I guess I was joking, most— No, I’m sorry. No PDA.”

The apology sat like lead in Uri’s stomach. Because he was lying, of course, it wasn’t the affection he had an objection to. He waved it off, swallowing in a vain effort to dispel the tightness in his throat. “I got caught up, too.”

Thomas’s smile at that was blinding. “I get that a lot,” he said with perfect honesty, then burst out laughing at whatever he saw in Uri’s face. “So… food?"

 

&

 

Eating was at least safer territory, and they got talking about which kids worked well together and which really needed to get over themselves—T’Jean and Blendi. They were so entranced Uri reached for another piece of pizza only to realise it was all gone.

Thomas snorted, giving him a toothy grin around the chunk he’d taken off the last piece.

“What? You not gonna share?” Uri asked him, lowering his chin and watching him from under his eyelashes. Maybe it was a little too much, but…

It worked. Thomas stopped chewing for a second, then rolled his eyes at him and put the rest of the slice back.

“Um, sorry,” Uri said at once. “I didn’t mean…”

“You don’t want it?” Thomas asked, obviously confused.

“Well, yeah, only I didn’t…” he trailed off, unable to explain. Had he used his alpha will to make Thomas give up the food? He couldn’t tell, it was—

“I’m getting us another one, obviously,” Thomas cut in. “But if you want this one with my germs and all…”

Uri glanced up, incredulous, before he burst out laughing loud enough he had to cover his mouth. “Your germs?” he hissed. “Like I haven’t…” he trailed off, grinning too hard, then snatched the pizza and took two huge bites.

Thomas laughed at his impression of a chipmunk before getting to his feet. “Be right back.”

 

&

 

Claudette was drumming her fingers on the table top when Uri caught sight of her. Through the closed glass door, she didn’t notice him approaching and jumped a little when he knocked. For only a second, before her conscious mind took over, her strong figure curled over.

{Can I come in?} Uri signed.

She waved her response like a queen hurrying a maid along. It was rude, but Uriel didn’t even need to open the glass door and get a faceful of the lemony scent in the room to know she was just covering up her discomfort.

No. Her _fear_.

Uri had given her no reason to be afraid, but she knew she couldn’t trust alphas—not even the one who’d sworn to protect her at all costs.

So certain was she that she was willing to submit herself to an irreversible medical procedure.

Bonds couldn’t be broken—and Mengele had tried that plenty of times—so he had come up with the idea of creating a stronger repelling force. As far as Uri understood, it was created with a blood sample from the opposite bonded partner and injected by both the alpha and the omega. Afterwards, the same genetic compatibility that had drawn them to each other would simultaneously cause them the opposite effect: a combination of pain, disgust, and sheer horror.

The first exposure to this new sensation seemed to be enough to most keep ex-partners from approaching each other again, but a few succumbed to the call of the bond often enough to kill one or both of them from the shock.

Every lawyer Uriel had ever come across speaking about the procedure strongly advised against it from both a legal and moral perspective. And yet, here was this woman, proud and put together, a professional pianist of the first order, and she’d signed the forms Mx Yave had left for her already.

{You are finished with that.} Uri stayed by the doorway and signed again. It wasn’t completely impossible for an alpha to put his will behind sign language, of course, but Uri had never done it by accident that way.

If she’d been a little younger, she’d probably have rolled her eyes at him. She didn’t bother with an answer, just raised an eyebrow.

{I don’t want to overstep,} he made himself explain. {But we can use the fact that I’m an alpha. It’ll rattle your… her. And I can draw her attention,} he added. She was still watching him, dark-eyed and silent. {If you want me to.}

{Is this why Mx Yave suddenly has a meeting?}

{No! He does have a meeting, it’s— can’t tell you, but it’s real. I swear.} Her face remained impassive, but he waited her out, knowing she had to catch in his scent that he was honest.

{Okay. I’ll let you know if I need your services.}

It was condescending as fuck, of course, but Uri didn’t really care. His job was to help her, and even if she was a bit cold, she did deserve help. Maybe she was cold because the world and her body had stuck her in a situation where she was powerless. In her place, he’d have wanted to hide how easily he could be hurt too.

He glanced at the desk. {I’ll take this to our intern.} She shrugged her permission, and he stepped forward and checked all the copies were there before piling them up. He turned for the door, then looked at her one more time. He didn’t speak. He couldn’t; he didn’t know what to say.

Claudette sighed, eyes sad, proud posture slipping a little. {It’s the only way.}

He nodded. She knew how terrible what she meant to do would be, and here she was telling him she was sure there was no other choice but to make it unbearable for both herself and her alpha to be in the same room ever again.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long hiatus, been distracted by life (and writing :)

Chapter Thirteen: Thomas

Thomas didn’t get sick. It was just one of those things he knew about himself. He got injured, of course, because he skated very fast around other people skating very fast in the opposite direction. But that was the price you paid for hockey, and he’d never met a player who thought it was too costly for the joy of it.

Being sick, though, like his dad got as a consequence of his bad back so that there were days when he couldn’t handle getting out of bed… Well, that wasn’t a thing that happened to Thomas. So he drank some hot tea and ignored the burning in his throat and then went to training and took it a little slow because his chest hurt too, but so what? It meant he needed to work a little more on his stamina. Slow and steady, that was all.

“You okay, Thomas?” his captain asked when he caught him drinking his electrolytes like a good boy.

Thomas waved him away. “Yeah, just winded.”

“Ok, you look a little peaky. Maybe stop by the infirmary when we’re done.”

“Sure,” Thomas said and promptly forgot.

He hadn’t meant to, but he was having trouble concentrating already—he felt groggy for some reason and it was harder than usual to catch his breath after skating for a while.

He must have looked tired because Carry insisted on them going home together. They did that often enough, what with living in the same building, but Carry didn’t normally hover the way he was doing now, barely looking at his reader on the train and frowning when he met Thomas’s eyes.

“I’m fine,” Thomas told him firmly.

Carry rolled his eyes at him. “You’re eating and going straight to bed.”

Thomas laughed, incredulous and touched both. It was just what Colleen would say.

His linemate accepted his amusement without question, at least until he laughed again when Carry asked him to promise to call him if he felt worse. The left-winger came closer and actually put his palm on Thomas’s forehead.

“No fever,” he declared, pulling back. He went and got him two glasses of water anyway. “This better be gone when I come pick you up in the morning,” he warned.

 

&

 

He felt better in the morning, though it wasn’t Carry who called but Coach, and Thomas wasn’t stupid enough to lie when asked specific questions about his energy levels—not with only a couple days before a game.

“Good, just rest up today, Kiau, we need you for the Whales game.”

“Sure thing, Coach.”

So he stayed at home and slept, and remembered to drink and drink and drink until he thought his internal organs had to be floating.

And it didn’t _work_. He knew it at once when the pain woke him in the middle of the night, coughing so hard he had to hold onto the covers not to fall off the bed altogether. He managed to stop long enough to sip some water and get his phone.

 

&

 

When he woke again, Colleen was on her screenreader, little lines between her brows she got when she was concentrating—the very same lines Thomas saw on his own face when he bothered to put on eyeliner.

“Oh, finally!” She squinted at him from behind her glasses. “I’ve been here for hours but they said you needed to rest. You’re fine,” she added quickly. “Just need some antibiotics.”

“Antibiotics?” he echoed, his voice coming out raspy and thin.

“Yes,” Colleen confirmed as she came forward to offer him a sippy cup. He tried and failed to take a good drink, then resigned himself to getting drops instead. It took him a good minute to wet his tongue enough to feel up to speaking again. By then, he’d already figured out he was in hospital.

“Why… What happened?”

“You fainted,” his sister told him reproachfully. “Because apparently you’ve had pneumonia for a week and you didn’t go see a bloody doctor.”

“What? I didn’t… I was fine,” he insisted. “And I called…”

“The emergency number,” she reminded him. “Thank the gods you did, they went to pick you up and you didn’t open the door. They had to open your door remotely.”

He put the cup down by his side, letting his head fall back against the pillows. “I never get sick.”

Colleen huffed and came closer to crush his hand in her own. “Everyone gets sick, you idiot.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Just don’t scare me like this again,” she demanded, voice tight.

He reached for her with his free hand and cupped her wrist in a gentle grip, squeezing just once. “Sorry, Col.”

 

&

 

He didn’t remember falling asleep, but it was his phone that woke him up. It took his brain a few seconds to realise it was ringing, a few seconds longer than whoever was calling was willing to wait apparently. He almost closed his eyes again and went back to sleep. He was thirsty, but Colleen wasn’t there, although she couldn’t be far because she’d left her neon green backpack on the chair. But then the phone pinged with a text.

He grunted as he got his elbow under him, feeling like it was a full set of sit-downs instead, but he managed to snatch the phone off the bedside table without falling on his face. He curled up on his side and turned the screen on.

[Guess you…] the preview read, but Thomas didn’t much care, he was grinning as he waited for it to load. [Guess you must be changing already.]

“Oh, fuck,” he said aloud.

“What are you doing?” Colleen was holding a cup and giving him a look that would have got Valentina to drop whatever she was holding and raise her hands.

Thomas did put down the phone. “The game… Is it today? Did I—?”

She sighed, relaxing a little and taking a sip of her drink. “Yeah, you’re missing it. I called your Coach yesterday when they called me.”

“You’ve been here all night?” he asked, his protective instincts momentarily distracting him from his professional failure.

Colleen shrugged. “They gave me a cot to sleep on. It was fine.”

Thomas stared at her. Colleen hated hospitals and it was very much a big deal if he’d forced her to remember the worst night of her life. He didn’t get on that well with his parents, but surely they both would have come to visit. Maybe they’d been, and Colleen had talked them into going home with the younger girls and let her stay.

He didn’t ask, maybe because a small part of him was not that sure. Considering no neighbours would find out Thomas was sick…

Colleen distracted him by offering him a proper cup of water and helping him drink. She then sat down on the bed and pushed him until he was lying on his back. “Stay there.”

“I’m sorry,” he told her again.

She rolled her eyes at him, snatching her coffee off the table. “Don’t be more of an idiot than you can help, T. It’s pneumonia; you couldn’t have done anything.”

“I drank fluids and I stayed home,” he felt the need to point out. “I don’t know how—”

“It doesn’t matter,” she cut him off, her smile forced but real. “You’re fine, and… This is different, and I have to get used to it anyway. Everyone gets sick sometimes; I have to be able to visit.”

“Yeah, but…”

She leaned down and put her arm around him as well as she could with him on his back. She squeezed hard, cheek pressed to his own, before sitting up again with a grimace. “Ugh, stubble.”

Thomas laughed. “My apologies, my lady.”

“Dunno how you can stand it,” she added with a dramatic little shudder.

“You should see Uri—” He cut himself off and groped around for the phone.

Colleen retrieved it from under the blankets but held it above her head. “Uri?” she prompted.

“Ugh, guy I’m seeing,” he conceded. He was way too tired to play games. He extended his hand for the phone.

“Huh,” she said, giving it to him.

[Guess you must be changing already. Just wanted to say good luck!]

[Do not break a leg] the second message added in French.

Thomas snorted out a laugh and promptly fell into a coughing fit Colleen had to rescue him from.

By the time he’d managed some water and was once again flat on the bed, he opened his eyes to find her looking at his phone.

“French?” she asked gleefully. “Really? The language of love?”

“Private joke,” he told her. “Emphasis on the private.”

She shook her head. “Nah, you dragged me to _hospital,_ ” she reminded him, not because she hadn’t meant that she didn’t mind coming, but because they’d grown up only being allowed to be completely honest with each other. So they were. She resented it a little, even as she also knew it would be for the best and that he couldn’t have helped it. And he was sorry for putting her through it knowing she’d lost her childhood friend in a hoverboard accident as a kid—some overworked emergency responder had packed her into the same ambulance as the dying child and then left her in the waiting room waiting for their parents. Karen’s parents had arrived first, and Colleen had been with them when they’d received the news.

She’d had nightmares for months, and Thomas had taken to waiting until their parents turned the lights off before crawling into her bed to hold her. Some nights it helped, other nights at least he was there when she started crying.

It’d been long enough for her to try, and even if he hadn’t meant to make her come to hospital for his sake, she was right that it was for the best. They loved each other, and they had each other’s backs, but that also meant being tough on each other sometimes.

The truth hurt, but it also healed; you couldn’t heal without getting the poison of lies out.

“If you’re going to be this disgustingly cute,” she added. “Then at least I should get to watch.”

“Gimme,” he asked, making grabby hands.

She vacillated but finally passed the phone over again. “No laughing,” she ordered, which almost set him off.

He bit his tongue and typed with difficulty. [Not playing, got sick.]

The answer pinged in his hands. [Sick? What’s wrong?]

[Pneumonia, need antibiotics but will be okay]

That was when the phone rang again. Thomas swallowed, checking his throat. It still hurt, but… He picked up. “Hey.”

“Oh, you sound… I’m sorry, you probably shouldn’t be talking. I’ll—”

“Don’t,” he asked quietly, but Uri listened.

“I actually looked up your game to watch, you know? I thought I’d got the wrong match…”

Thomas quickly covered his mouth to muffle a laugh.

“So you stayed home? Do you need something? I can come… I mean, if you want,” Uri backtracked.

“Not home,” Thomas explained. “Um, hospital, actually.”

Uri didn’t speak for a long moment. “Did you just say you are in the _hospital_?” His voice rose in pitch as well as volume.

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t—” Thomas heard him inhale, then exhale. “Sorry, just… you surprised me. What hospital are you at?”

“Um, I don’t…” He glanced up to find Colleen’s eyes. She’d been shamelessly eavesdropping, naturally. “What hospital is this?”

She raised her eyebrows, mouth twitching, but she told him, “Bethlem Royal Hospital.”

Thomas repeated it to Uri. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes, half an hour max,” he informed Thomas in the same no-nonsense tone he used to stop kids in their tracks. For a moment, he couldn’t quite process that the line had gone dead in his ear.

Uri had hung up. He was going to… He met Colleen’s eyes. “You gotta leave.”

“What? Is he coming? I want to meet him!” she said cheerfully as she took a seat in the armchair provided for visitors, for all the world like she planned to spend a long time in it.

Thomas rolled his eyes at her. “Come on, C, don’t make me beg. I’m _sick_.”

She sighed but got up and leaned down to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Your team’s gonna be here after the game,” she warned. “And I’m picking you up and staying with you when they let you out.”

“Thank you,” Thomas told her softly. “You’re the best.”

 

&

 

Uri walked in with a nurse in the process of reassuring him that Thomas wasn’t in any danger. The man stopped speaking as soon as he saw Thomas, and Uri took one look at his face and crossed the space between them like they hadn’t seen each other in years, or like Thomas had been lost in a warzone instead of becoming ill in perfectly safe civilization.

Still, he wasn’t going to complain about Uri’s hand cupping his cheek, his dark eyes travelling up and down his face. “You’ve a fever,” he said inanely.

“A bit,” Thomas responded. He wondered what the hospital’s policy was on PDA… then winced when he remembered _Uri’s_ policy. He turned his face into Uri’s touch, allowing himself to enjoy the closeness for a minute.

“You gave me a fright,” the other man told him. “How did it get this bad so fast?”

“New strand of the virus or something,” Thomas mumbled. He could easily have gone back to sleep. Maybe if Uri would just climb on the bed and hold him…

“I can’t really stay that long,” Uri said, taking his hand away from Thomas’s face and pushing a strand of his too-long hair behind his ear.

Thomas opened his eyes, a little confused. He’d just rushed over and now…

“I just—” He shrugged. He didn’t touch Thomas again but kept his hand raised like he was about to. “I needed to see you. But I’m volunteering tonight, can’t leave them hanging.”

“Oh, the karaoke night,” he said, suddenly remembering. He’d had to miss several training sessions with the kids, but at least they were keeping busy.

“Yeah,” Uri agreed, carding his fingers through Thomas’s hair in a way that felt sinfully good. “You’ll be okay?”

Thomas risked smudging the line a little more and reached to take hold of Uri’s hand next to his face. “Yeah, sure. Just need to sleep it off.”

For a moment, he thought Uri was about to kiss him, but the next time he opened his eyes it was because the nurse needed him to drink some more water.

 

&

 

By the time Keenan and Carry showed up, he was bored out of his mind.

"Guys! I'm so sorry!" he called out, getting a glare from the nurse at the nearest station. He signed an apology before turning to his teammates.

Carry looked blank. "What for?"

"Um, for missing the game?" He took a sip of his water before he started coughing again. He’d mostly got the hang of it—it was all timing, really.

"Dude," Keenan told him. "You. Are. Sick."

Thomas sighed. "I know, I know, but still." He’d already found out they’d lost, and he knew it was his fault, even if it was a team sport. With him on their line, Keenan and Carry would have been able to use their magic effectively.

Keenan might have been about to go all alternate captain on him, but Carry saved the day, or his frayed nerves, at least. "Here, we brought you some Chai." He turned to Keenan and ordered, "Give him the candy."

The little control freak… On the other hand… "Candy?" he asked hopefully.

“You realise you can _buy_ all the candy you want, right?” Keenan asked him, laughing at him.

"But free candy tastes better!" he argued, laughing too. Naturally he started coughing again, his throat’s marked reminder that he was not to use it for anything except some water until it was healed.

"Oh, that's... I think we better stop with all the exciting candy talk or you're going to end up in real trouble," Carry decided, stepping away. "I'll leave the candy on your bedside table," he told him, babbling a little, but even as he panted for air, Thomas could hear the doubt in his voice. "It should be good for your throat if you don't bite it too much."

He tried to say something reassuring, but apparently he’d already done too much because he ended up having to have Keenan help him drink some water. After that, he’d accepted defeat and waved them goodbye.

 

&

 

If he’d had the energy, he’d have thrown himself a party the moment he got home. Unfortunately, fighting off pneumonia did take rather a lot out of a guy. Also, Colleen would have strapped him to the bed with his ties if he’d as much as requested to stay up and watch a serial.

So he went to bed, and got woken by his steadfast little sister to drink some fluids, then again by his bladder.

That time, he detoured to pick up his phone. It was almost out of charge, but there was a message. From Uri. [Hey, how’re you holding up? Kids send kisses]

“What are you smiling at?” Colleen must have heard him moving around, but she was still in street clothes.

“Why are you dressed?” Thomas asked her inanely, then checked the time on his phone. Yup, 1:35 in the morning.

“Because society demands it of us,” she told him cheekily. “Also that I get a degree. Why is your boyfriend texting you at this time? Doesn’t he have a job to wake up for like a proper adult?”

“He’s a _lawyer_ ,” Thomas replied with a shrug. His parents would bloody love it if they knew, of course. “He didn’t text me now, he…”

“Uh huh,” his sister said, looking like she could read his thoughts. “So he’s _that_ gone on you, then.”

“What?” Thomas glanced at the time stamp, more to look away from her knowing eyes than because he assumed there was any chance she was right. “No, he texted me at seven in the afternoon. But someone confiscated my phone,” he added with an arch look in her direction.

“You’re not gonna go all respectable on me, are you?”

“Uri volunteers at an adoption centre every weekend, and I’m pretty sure he’d rather work there full time if he could.”

“What’s stopping him?” she demanded, as uncompromising with a man she’d never met as she was with herself.

Thomas raised his hands. “Need to charge this. Maybe you can ask him.”

“Can I?” Colleen’s voice went high. “How serious is this? You haven’t—”

“Colleen!” he cut in. “I gotta rest, remember?”

She deflated. “Okay, but I get to meet him first.”

“Sure,” he conceded. “You get to threaten him not to hurt me and all that.”

She snorted, probably mentally dismissing the idea as a throwback to patriarchy—which was no warranty she wasn’t going to subtly imply Uriel better not fuck up.

 

 


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: Uriel

“I know you’re a big shot now and all, but you’d think I could find you _at work_.”

Uri glanced up from his reader and had to squeeze his eyes shut before he could focus them on Jun.

“Wow, when’s the last time you slept?”

“I… I need to be ready,” he tried to explain.

Jun shook his head, snatching the reader away before Uri could react. “You need to be _alive._ ” He came around the desk and pulled on Uri’s arm, surprising him enough to shock him awake. For one thing, Jun was a head shorter than him and about half his size, there was no way he’d be able to get him to his feet. For another… it was an awfully dominating attitude for a beta to take towards an alpha.

Jun had always seemed to remember before, but… His fingers dug into Uri’s underarm rather painfully and he winced. He blinked up at Jun, who was frowning. Had his friend really treated him like an alpha before? Betas had no real reason to remember, did they? For the first time, it occurred to him that for Jun, Uri could just be… a friend, a colleague. And right now, a person who’d been reading for so long his thoughts could hardly cohere.

He was right about that much, at least. “Come on, let’s get some coffee and food in you.”

Eating felt amazing, and Uri had drunk half the coffee before registering the taste was off. “You poison me to steal my case?”

“It’s decaf,” Jun said with a smirk.

Uri glanced down at his cup in disgust. “Why?”

Jun rolled his eyes at him. “Because I know what you’re like when you get obsessive, so you have eaten and now you’re going to take a nap.”

“What? I can’t take a break now, I still—”

“Or you can waste the twenty minutes arguing with me,” Jun said mildly. Every line of his lithe body seemed to radiate his endless energy.

In other words, Uri was fucked.

He heaved a sigh, then got to his feet and put the crockery into the dish washing fountain. Jun followed him into the room at the back of the office where they kept the sleeping pods—only three of them but of the highest quality.

“Are you planning to sing me to sleep?” Uri asked a little sharply.

“Do you want me to?” Jun blinked his long lashes at him, asking in a sweet syrupy voice like he couldn’t talk someone into confessing by speaking his incredibly insightful observations until they were sure he knew it all anyway.

Uri didn’t say a thing. When you didn’t even have the energy to roll your eyes at such antics… He pressed the pod open and toed off his shoes before climbing into it to lie down.

“Sweet dreams!” Jun called as he made his way out.

He sounded so smug Uri would have got back up just to prove him wrong, if he could have…

He used the last of energy to hit the button to set the alarm instead.

 

&

 

Because Uriel was a grown man and able to admit his mistakes, he went to find Jun when he woke, groggy but with a clearer head. He had made sure to sleep at night, having learned the lesson about pulling all-nighters early during his university studies, but he wasn’t that good at stopping once he’d focused on something important, so he’d been getting to bed rather late all of the last week.

Jun was wearing the green-tinted glasses that helped him with his own dyslexia—Uri might not have wanted to buy all that alpha bullshit about manliness but he was still glad his own brain favoured cream and not a bright colour like green.

“Ah, the prodigal prince returns,” he told Uri with a smile.

“Son,” Uri corrected. “And the prodigal son is actually a dick to his dad, and his dad is still hung up on him, so that’s an insult.”

“Who says I didn’t want to insult you?” Jun shot back, shrugging.

Uri rolled his eyes but didn’t respond. “Thank you for making me take a break,” he said formally.

Jun raised his eyebrows, lips curving upwards, but all he said was, “You’re welcome.”

“And sorry I haven’t been around. I meant to follow up on how the visit to the adoption centre went…”

“Oh!” Jun straightened like he’d been injected with adrenaline. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! They asked us back.”

“What?”

“The Peckham kids!” Jun seemed ready to vibrate out of his own skin. “We visited again last weekend and it was great. I had to take Rimini out to dinner Monday and yesterday to keep her from baking up a storm. She’s so happy, it’s a little scary.”

Uri had thought the visit to Peckham was just an experience to ease Jun and Rimini into the search… He had to quash down the part of him that felt the kids were his somehow, to protect, at least. If one of them wanted to be adopted by his friends, they’d certainly be well cared for, and as a plus Uri would get to keep seeing them. The internal promise eased something in him, but he also needed to protect _Jun_. “That’s great, just... well, just remember a lot of those kids don’t want to be adopted; they’re waiting for their families to be ready to take them back.”

“Hades and Persephone!” Jun sighed, rolling his eyes at him with gusto. “You’re such an old man. We know that, but they _liked us_ , and some of them do want to find a family. And anyway, we had the best time; kids totally get that I need to move around, and none of them were complaining about all the new food Rimini made them try.”

Uri laughed, shaking his head. “I bet.”

Jun was grinning like the maniac he was. “Anyway, it’s not like we think it’s a done deal or anything, but well... we’ll see where it goes, I guess. Rimini wants to make you dinner to thank you.”

“Definitely not turning that down,” Uri told him sincerely. “But let’s wait till I’m done with this case, it’s—”

“Don’t even, I’m stuck with another testament nobody agrees about,” Jun cut him off. “Enjoy the excitement while it lasts.”

Upsetting as Claudette’s case could be, Uri couldn’t argue with Jun about that either.

 

&

 

Uri wasn't hiding anything; it was just polite to clean up the house before having a guest. Especially a guest whose immune system had recently proven to be somewhat compromised. But he could admit it was a bit of a relief to discover there was nothing that said 'alpha' in his flat. Out in the world, he was always uncomfortably aware that a quarter of the people he met could tell what he was. Most of them wouldn't even care, but it still made Uri feel like he had to be careful—his power and privilege didn't have to be obvious to be real.

He wouldn’t have been his mothers’ son if he hadn’t realised that the ability to keep his orientation secret was in itself a form of privilege—a form of power. He wouldn’t use it for anything but to protect himself, and yet...

But he wasn’t the only one with privilege. And it wasn’t the same as ordering an omega to do something and having their own bodies betray them into obeying; it was closer to the ability Thomas’s money gave him of getting a flat with a Jacuzzi (and all the privacy he wanted).

He still had to tell him, but before he did and it was _him_ at a disadvantage, he wanted Thomas to get to know him without the weight of preconceptions and assumptions all betas had about alphas.

It was only their fifth date, after all, it had to be a bit early for the deep secrets if they couldn’t even say to be properly dating.

Thomas grinned at him from the doorway, shaking a bottle of white wine before raising the other. “I got red too,” he announced proudly. Uri was hardly a connoisseur, but he appreciated Thomas’s attempts to indulge him.

Uri took him by the wrist and dragged him close enough to kiss, a chaste peck that turned into him nuzzling at Thomas’s cheek when he couldn’t quite make himself step away.

“Rosé is for dessert, so my father said not to,” Thomas murmured for no particular reason Uri could think of. Uri made himself relinquish his grip and wave his guest inside. “And yes, I asked my father about it,” he added. “Which is probably more of a token of my affection than the alcohol. I figured dinner wines would be a pretty safe topic, but you can’t ever...” He stopped talking, and Uri realised he was blocking the way. Thomas licked his lips. “Should we put the wine down first?”

Uri tore his gaze away. “This way.”

His kitchen was small, which was why he mostly cooked at his moms'. But it had a big window and a solid wooden table whose origins Esti and Ruth had never stopped arguing about. It was clearly an antique, but he’d almost felt like he was doing them a favour by taking it when he’d moved into this flat when he’d left university.

Thomas put the bottles down, twisting his neck to take in the small room.

“The white should go in the fridge,” Uri told him when he couldn’t stand the scrutiny any longer.

“Oh, yeah,” he agreed, taking the bottle and turning around to search for it. Before Uri could intervene, he’d figured out that it was under the counter. “Oh, wow, is that...?”

“I figured you’d eat a lot, and, well, I don’t really know what you like.”

Thomas straightened, letting the fridge door close. “Just that I’m not allergic to anything.”

Uri shrugged. “David can’t have peanuts, so I carry an EpiPen, but it doesn’t exactly put you in the mood...”

Thomas raised an eyebrow, expression growing smug. “You’re hoping to put me in the mood?”

But he’d chosen the wrong thing to tease him about; Uri had hardly managed to stop kissing him earlier, and now he crossed the two meters between them like he was skating, taking hold of Thomas’s forearm, keeping his gaze focused on the beta’s widening green eyes. “Do you need help with that?”

Thomas swallowed, Adam’s apple bobbing in Uri’s peripheral vision. He shook his head. “Is this you offering?” he checked, clearly affected but not giving an inch. He’d not resisted when Uri had invaded his space, and he was not stepping back either. Of course, he was almost trapped against the counter… Uri wanted to see him—

The oven timer started beeping and flashing red to his left, startling them both. Thomas chuckled, and Uri let the impulse to silence the noise guide him towards the meal he’d been about to ruin just to get a second longer close to him.

His hands were steady, but his heart was still hammering away. _What was he doing? What was even happening to him with this man he hardly knew?_ If Thomas had been an omega, he’d have assumed…

But this wasn’t the universe telling him he’d found the other half of his soul—or could it really be only a half when people could have more than one true pairing? It didn’t matter; Thomas wasn’t an omega. The thought was strangely reassuring, or maybe it wasn’t as strange as all that, was it? He’d told his mothers and David that he didn’t want to find an omega, that he didn’t want to have that kind of power over anyone, even if he’d have used it right and never abused it… He didn’t _want it_. He didn’t want to be careful all the time. But, he saw now, he’d believed it when he’d been told it was the only way he could truly love someone.

He’d thought he was giving that up.

And here was a man ready to prove him wrong, to prove all of them wrong.

He set down the gefilte fish before turning to his guest. “Please sit, this is best when it’s not too hot. I have a starter ready.”

Thomas watched him back for a moment, then nodded with a smile and went to the sink to wash his hands. Uri passed him a tea towel on his way to the covered dish on the other side of the counter. Their fingers brushed, their eyes met, but he didn’t drop it.

He popped the pita into the toaster box.

“Oh, is that hummus?” Thomas asked, peeking from where he’d finally taken a seat. It was a relief to know he’d stay put for a bit—Uri needed all his concentration to get the food on the table.

“Yeah, you can’t go wrong with hummus, right?”

“You can’t go wrong with food, if it’s for me,” Thomas joked.

Uri snorted, getting the bread and placing it on the platter. He’d flavoured half the hummus with red pepper, which Esti would have frowned upon for sure. But good as the original recipe was, a little variety never hurt. He sat and smiled at Thomas, who was watching him without giving any signs he intended to start eating. “What?”

“Um, do you… pray?”

“Oh, not that often,” he admitted.

“Because you don’t believe or…?”

He shook his head. “It’s not that, even if I have doubts… It’s more that it’s hard to find the time. And I guess that’s the point, to find the time to say thank you and appreciate what you got.”

Thomas licked his lips. “I can get behind that, and I would like to hear it, if you…”

Uriel gave himself a moment to imagine it. “Yeah, okay, I could… I would like that,” he said, realising it was true. “I don’t really know what all the words mean, but it goes like this ‘Baruh atah Adonai…”

“Hebrew is beautiful,” Thomas said when he was done. His voice was soft, almost reverential, and he was watching him so closely that Uri had to look away.

He shrugged. “Ruth can actually speak it fluently; she’s the academic in the family.”

“Of course,” Thomas told him with an arched eyebrow that was completely unnecessary to convey his disbelief. “You’re just a humble lawyer.”

Uri rolled his eyes at him. “Eat, before the pitta gets cold.”

He had always loved cooking, and he always cooked for other people—rarely bothering when he had to eat alone—but most people limited themselves to a heartfelt thank you. Thomas, on the other hand, seemed intent on giving him an erection with the noises he was making.

Uriel had a half-full plate he’d forgotten existed and couldn’t stop shifting on his seat, desperate to relieve some of the pressure in his pants.

Thomas noticed, because the guy couldn’t miss a thing even when he was in the middle of a food orgy. “You’re not eating.”

Uri coughed, but that couldn’t disguise his red face, and his guest stopped eating too, his gaze a heavy weight on Uri’s skin.

“Are you turned on?”

“You’re… You’re making a lot of noise,” Uri said tightly. And then almost knocked his glass clean off the table when he felt something touch his leg. Thomas’s professional reflexes snatched the cup out of range just in time.

“Careful there,” he teased. And then his foot moved against Uri’s leg under the table, a little rough for a caress but rubbing what had to be his ankle against the inside of Uri’s knees—already spread because… Uri grunted, legs tensing in an effort not to snap them together, or... “ _Thomas._ ”

“Do you want me to stop?” The foot went still, giving credence to the question.

And it was that, of all things, the way he reined himself in with such ease, that made Uri shake his head. Suddenly he found himself gripping the sides of his chair, not simply uncomfortable but desperate for the touch. “No, no, don’t stop.”

Thomas froze, visibly struggling, then pushed his chair back fast enough it scraped against the floor. “The food _is_ amazing,” he told Uri, then he stepped closer and leaned over to kiss him hard on the mouth.

Uri sighed into it, sucking him in. He wanted it all: Thomas’s tongue and his hands and his chest, and there wasn’t… He pulled, and Thomas resisted, and he heard cloth rip. Thomas didn’t seem to notice; he side-stepped and used the momentum to tug Uri to his feet.

“Come _on_ ,” he demanded, or begged, it was hard to make the distinction when he pressed their torsos together and the rest of their bodies followed as they stumbled into each other like waves crashing, too hard and absolutely inevitable.

He didn’t need to do either to convince him. Uri cupped his face, then tangled his fingers in his blond hair, just long enough for a good grip. Thomas shuddered against him and clutched harder at his hips, bringing their groins together in a way that had Uri swaying before kissing him harder.

They hobbled, as two people inevitably would when they were trying to entangle their legs while standing, and Thomas half-laughed, half-panted into the kiss they couldn’t bring themselves to give up on. “We always do this,” he said, smiling.

It was true, not that Uri needed telling. The first time, he’d assumed his desperation was the natural by-product of a long dry spell. Now he knew better.

“Come to my room,” he replied in a rough whisper. He didn’t know if he was begging; he didn’t care.

He didn’t exactly let Thomas follow on his own, but he was pretty convinced by the way he got pushed against the doorway and thoroughly groped that his enthusiasm was more than reciprocated. It was Thomas, in fact, who tumbled them onto the bed hard enough they almost rolled right off it. The beta put a hand down hard to stop them from falling, pressing his hips down onto Uri’s with enough force his moan was as much out of pain as pleasure. He blinked up dazedly, realizing he was lying under ninety kilos of pure muscle.

Thomas must have felt his hesitation because, for all their frantic need, he’d paused now, licking his lips and taking Uri in like he was a painting, every stroke of his eyelashes a clue he couldn’t bear to miss. “You good?”

Uri took a moment to decide, then put a hand on Thomas’s face and pulled him into a softer kiss. It didn’t stay soft for long, turning wet and languorous instead, like a slow, steady fuck, wet and slick and so deep it felt like he’d never be able to separate their bodies again. Thomas ground down into him, hard cocks not quite meeting. But the man’s thigh was like a rod of iron too, and if he didn’t want to come in his pants like a goddamned teenager Uri had to— He tore his mouth away, took in a lungful of precious air. “Clothes.”

It was only then that he discovered it was his shirt that’d got torn. Thomas, kneeling over him, signed an apology with a quick grimace and removed his own shirt. Uri rolled his eyes at him. “Sure thing, you’re desolate.”

The beta shrugged, pecs rippling like a lake under sunlight. “At least it wasn’t the suit,” he offered.

Uri’s brain had so little blood to work with that it took him until he got to his feet to get his shoes off to realise Thomas was talking about their first time. The image sent a ripple of possessive pleasure through him. That Thomas had _known_ , even then…

Apparently, he was too slow because Thomas’s arms came around him from behind and lowered his zip for him. Uri sighed, leaning back into him as the pressure on his groin suddenly eased. The points of pressure of Thomas’s fingers on his sides as he tugged down his underwear with his trousers almost made him thrust forward. He recovered his balance just enough to step out of the puddle of clothes and turn to face the man.

The naked man. Maybe man wasn’t enough of a descriptor, though. He was beautiful, of course, but it was his soft inviting smile as much as his muscles or the shine of sweat on his skin that had Uri gulping around a suddenly tight throat.

He was a little more careful when he pushed Thomas backwards onto the bedspread, but even so, their rough groping turned into a sort of wrestling, and there was no way for Thomas to end a physical contest anywhere but on top. He pushed himself up, all cocky grin and luminous green eyes. His eyelashes fluttered as his cock rubbed against Uri’s hipbone, but he was paying enough attention to keep his seat. Uri’s cock was getting even better attention pressed between their bellies, but...

“I want…” Thomas leaned in for a peck to his lips, then his nose, “to fuck.” His cheekbone, his ear, with a little tongue now.

The words just about filtered past the intense, if slightly unsettling, weight of him and the tender kisses accompanied by delicious thrusts, uncoordinated and clumsy, almost better in the primal need they revealed. Uri opened his eyes, only then realising he’d closed them.

“Lube?” the beta asked.

The words dried up in Uri’s throat. He had never been asked before; it had just never come up. He’d barely got around to heavy petting by the time he’d presented at seventeen and then… he’d never been with anyone who didn’t know he was an alpha.

No one had asked. No one had been _meant_ to ask.

Thomas pulled away, and Uri’s heart skipped a beat. “Bedside drawer, right?” Thomas asked, sounding amused. “Where else does anyone keep supplies?” He rolled off Uri and opened the drawer before Uri could object.

It was a little presumptuous, but Uri was too busy panicking about what he’d say when he turned back around to care. Thomas, who Uri was starting to suspect had to be psychic, caught his mood at once when he did. “You alright? What— Oh, you think... No, I mean, I would love to fuck you,” he said sincerely. “But I meant I wanted you to fuck me again.” His smile was tentative now, and he opened and closed his mouth as if repressing the impulse to say more.

Of course, because he was just that perfect, wasn’t he? He was a guy who could hold Uri down with no difficulty, but he wasn’t worried about liking to get fucked. It didn’t make him an omega, and there was nothing wrong with _being_ an omega, Uri believed that as deeply as he believed anything. If anything, he thought what one should fear was to be an alpha—not the kind protector of fantasy but the controlling arseholes so often found in reality.

There was no shame in submitting, or in dominating. Not if done willingly, for your pleasure and your partner’s.

Uri wasn’t that kind of alpha, but somehow he’d bought the lies about what alphas did and didn’t do with their bodies. He’d been so worried about his own power, he’d forgotten the basic rule of all power: it came from the lies people told each other to keep everything neat and tidy, everyone in their place, the powerful in power, the powerless struggling. Everyone trapped, because no human being was truly happy with no choices—even when the lack of choices meant a life of privilege and power, the lies still drained you.

And you couldn’t just avoid the path set out for you, you had to find a new one. And to find your place in the world, you had to be brave enough to risk visiting without knowing if it was safe.

He wasn’t that kind of alpha. He didn’t _care_ he was an alpha. He wanted to know who he could be, and he wanted this man patiently waiting for an answer like the frantic passion of a few minutes earlier was of no consequence to the choices they were making in this moment.

“No,” Uri said, to Thomas, and to the world, and to himself.

No.

He would not bend down to fear, he’d not follow without knowing why he followed. He stayed on his back, exposed, and met Thomas’s eyes—a more intimate kind of surrender.

“I… You can fuck me.” The words were hard to say, and he swallowed because he _had_ to say more; he couldn’t let Thomas make a mistake because of him. He couldn’t ruin this like some foolish teenager imagining sex was a sacrifice one made for love instead of an expression of that love. “But I…”

It was only their fifth date, but of course Thomas had proven again and again that he understood him beyond any logic. “Not your area of expertise?” he suggested, curious but not seemingly surprised. Uri felt certain he’d have reacted the same way if Uri had asked for the opposite.

“ _Yes_ ,” he blurted out, because it was true. It wasn’t all the truth, but it was… It had to be enough, if he was going to do this, or try to do it anyway. He couldn’t bear to speak of it too. Not yet. And maybe he’d never got fucked himself, but he’d been on the other side enough to know a virgin, and someone who was out of practice weren’t that far apart in terms of the preparation they’d need.

Thomas knelt on the bed, dropping the supplies to the side. “Not a problem,” he assured him. “I kinda feel like I owe you a blowjob. It’ll help you relax.”

Uri frowned. “You gave me one already, I almost—” He swallowed, flushing at the memory of Thomas’s mouth on him, but also... also the way Thomas had kept him in place so easily, which… which had felt good. Safe, but also… just good. He couldn’t find the words to explain it, so he focused on the part he understood. “And in any case, there is no owing.”

“I know,” Thomas told him with a light smile. “Let’s call it practice then. Practice makes perfect; it was my coach’s favourite saying.”

Uri snorted. “Well, I suppose I have to offer to aid your efforts at improving yourself.”

Thomas licked his lips. “Keep talking like that, counsellor; it definitely gets me in the _mood_.”

Uri laughed, because of course Thomas couldn’t resist reminding him of his awkward phrasing earlier, and of course Uri found it stupidly charming. He scooted back until he was leaning on the pillows and spread his bent knees, leaving himself fully exposed. Thomas’s gaze deviated downwards at once. His cheeks were flushed and his lips were parted, and if Uri hadn’t wanted his mouth on his cock so badly, he’d have given in and dragged him up into another kiss.

“You in the mood yet?” he asked. Being watched like that didn’t hinder his erection, but it made his heart feel like it’d pound its way right out of his chest.

The green of Thomas’s eyes was almost entirely swallowed up by the black when he glanced up. He licked his lips. “Yes.”

He crawled forward almost too abruptly, his hands on Uri’s thighs making him tense a little. He rubbed his thumbs through the hair there, hands travelling up to the sensitive skin where Uri’s legs met his torso. He exhaled raggedly as Uri let out an involuntary sigh, then bent over and sniffed, letting his breath warm Uri’s erection. “Just don’t expect too much,” he said right before he took hold of Uri’s dick and sucked the head into his mouth.

Uri convulsed under his grip, too startled to hold back his moan or control his movements. It was always like this for him when someone took him into their mouth, and the only reason he’d agreed to let Thomas try it in the first place had been this incredible strength. Thomas took the encouragement in the spirit in which it was intended and stroked the flat of his tongue against the exposed head of Uri’s cock. Uri shivered, biting back a sound.

“I—” He pulled on Thomas’s hair, which he didn’t remember taking hold of. His lover pulled off, lips wet and eyes dark. “Sensitive,” Uri managed to explain.

He saw Thomas’s eyes flicker down to his cock where the foreskin had been removed. He got a nod, but Thomas still looked uncertain. “Should I…?”

“No, just… I’ll come,” he explained. “If…” He swallowed. It was one thing to agree, but to actually ask for it… “I’m not going to last if you do that, so…”

Thomas watched him for a moment. This time his nod was of understanding. He picked up the bottle of lube. He leaned back in and licked a long line up Uri’s cock, pleasantly stimulating but not enough to make him finish. He felt like a man on the edge of a cliff, hanging on for dear life. There was another lick accompanied by the sound of the lube bottle being opened, and then, of all things, a kiss to the head as liquid was squirted out right onto his overheated skin. The feel of the cold lubricant on his sack almost made him kick out in surprise, pleasure and shock intermingling and making him squeeze his eyes shut to keep from being overwhelmed. Thomas rewarded his restraint with a soft suck on the side of his erection. The next thing he knew, his left leg was being pushed further aside so that his lover could reach lower, his slick fingers reaching for the puckered skin behind.

“Thomas…” Uri said, not knowing what he meant by it. Just—

All movement ceased, fingertips poised at his entrance. “Say stop if it’s too much.”

It wasn’t too much, not yet. It wasn’t _enough_. And he could stop it any time he wanted. He wouldn’t even need to speak; if he betrayed the slightest reluctance, Thomas would know. “Feels odd,” he explained instead. “Just… go slow.”

Thomas pressed a kiss to his inner thigh. “Very,” he promised.

Uri closed his eyes and allowed himself to be explored: the carefully spaced licks of his erection interspersed with his balls being cupped and then with fingers circling his hole. The sensation there was insane, distinctly strange and yet disturbingly… pleasant.

He was panting a little, unsure if it was mainly nerves or arousal behind his body’s accelerated rhythms. His cock was hard, of course, but who could have resisted the teasing sucks and careful caresses, or the smiling mouth of the man providing them with such care?

The first fingertip pushing past the ring of muscle had him clenching hard on pure instinct. Thomas didn’t pull back, letting him get used to the feeling. And he did, though it was still odd, like all new things were, but it wasn’t painful and he— The slide of Thomas’s finger a little further in sent a shock of sensation to his brain that took him the throb of his cock to understand as pleasure. The beta met his eyes, waiting to see his response. Suddenly Uri was sure that he knew this was no lack of practice, that Uri had never…

But Thomas’s expression didn’t change. “A little more?” he offered.

Uri gave a shaky nod. It didn’t hurt, and he… he wanted to know. There was no reason he shouldn’t, nothing but stupid stories that said letting his body be touched this way meant surrender to someone else’s will.

That surrender meant weakness.

But he’d never had to work this hard to fuck someone, to be in such absolute control of every muscle, so very conscious of every inch of skin. For that to be considered weakness was laughable at best, at worst...

Thomas smiled and bent down to suck at the head of his cock, and the unexpected pleasure had Uri thrusting into it. But Thomas _had_ expected it because his other hand was firmly clamped on Uri’s thigh, and he only managed to lift himself a few inches before he was forced back down. His throbbing cock was distraction enough that it took him a moment to realise Thomas’s finger was now knuckles deep into his arse. He glanced down, shocked at himself, but of course he could see little other than Thomas’s hand against his buttocks.

The beta wiggled his finger, a sensation so foreign Uri burst out laughing. “Oh, that’s—” he stopped himself before he gave away his inexperience beyond a shadow of a doubt.

“Need more lube,” Thomas determined.

When the finger was withdrawn, the emptiness it left behind was oddly unsettling. But Thomas was just adding more lube before trying to go deeper. This time, Uri had enough presence of mind to arch into the touch. He’d known it’d make a difference, of course, but it was nothing to _understanding_ it—like a shock to his groin and his brain both. It brought back a memory he’d somehow long forgotten; a time when he’d done this to himself after being taught about it in health class. A time when… Thomas did something, and he gasped, for air, for mercy, for an end and for it to never end.

“Yeah,” Thomas murmured right onto his erection. He didn’t touch it, probably aware of how close Uri was to losing it already. “You’re gorgeous, you know that? I just… I’ll give you another.”

He didn’t delay in delivering; the fullness was still odd, but the promise of that jolt when he reached deep enough kept Uri still, and after that things were a bit of a blur. He knew he wanted more of it, even when the fourth finger turned the stretch from uncomfortable to painful, and Thomas leaned in to suck him again, slow and clearly enjoying it. Uri thrust into it, too lost in sensation. Thomas’s fingers inside him tensed as he used his left hand to keep Uri from choking him.

“Sorry!” Uri panted, opening his eyes to check on him.

Thomas was smiling. “I’ll take it as a compliment,” he said in a raspy voice that made Uri’s balls pulse. He looked away, breathing hard and trying to take stock of his body—he’d never been good at yoga, no matter how much his mothers made him practice, and this was far from an ideal situation. It was only when Thomas pulled his fingers out that he looked up, alarmed. “You want me to suck you off?” he asked, glancing down at Uri’s groin with clear appreciation.

Like he really would happily exchange fucking him for… And Uri _loved_ sucking cock, the utter surrender of a man’s body to his mouth and hands, the absolute control of providing pleasure without your own to distract you… It was magnificent, but it couldn’t compare to fucking.

Not for him.

Maybe it did for Thomas, only… _he_ wanted to know. Even if only once, even if it wasn’t quite right for him, he wanted to know what it felt like from the other side. He knew what it was like to take someone’s body apart, to take charge of their pleasure and pour yourself fully into their bodies—following each twitch and sigh until you found the exact combination of movements which would unlock their brains and allow their bodies to peak. To do it even when they were gripping your cock so tightly you could hardly breathe, let alone think, and still…

He shook his head. “Condom.”

Thomas didn’t question him again, and Uri watched him as he gripped the base of his erection before putting on the rubber. He was a big man, and proportionately so, but it wasn’t the idea of his size that almost made Uri back down, it was the way he raised his eyes until their gazes locked. It set his heart to hammering crazily in his chest—panic or ecstasy, he couldn’t tell. He lay back down, forcing himself not to look away. Still, it was a relief when Thomas had to look down so he could position himself. Uri felt himself relax into his hold as his hips were rearranged for a better angle.

It was his turn to let go.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen: Thomas**

Uri had woken him up briefly with a soft caress to his neck, but he'd gone right back to sleep, and by the time his alarm had gone off, the other side of the bed was cold.

It was nine and morning practice was at ten, but it was optional, and Thomas hadn't lied, he did miss them when something worthy of the sacrifice came up. Like enjoying a good breakfast while his body still sang with the echoes of the pleasurable activities from the previous night.

He figured out the coffee machine easily enough—it was similar to the one his dad had got for his father's last birthday—and found some cereal he could live with. Just enough to keep him on his feet until he could have a real meal, but that was all he needed. He ate fairly quickly, all too conscious of the subpar nature of his efforts when sitting at the table where Uriel had lain a veritable feast for him the night before. He wondered if Uri had decided on the gefilte fish knowing it was better once it cooled down. Thomas was no fan of cooked fish as a rule, but the sauce, the almost unpronounceable chrain, had changed the game completely.

His eyes caught on the wallet on the bedside table the moment he walked back into the bedroom to retrieve his clothes. He didn't mean to pry, but he was a touchy person—the kind of child who’d needed his hand held at all times in expensive shops—and Uri’s minimalistic flat didn’t have much to touch. Besides, wouldn't Uri need it? It appeared to be made of leather, which seemed odd for someone of Uri’s background. The material was soft on his hands and seemed old enough to be from before the Unnecessary Cruelty Statute had been passed and meat had started being grown in pieces instead of farmed from live animals. Most people either couldn’t afford the animal-made antiques or preferred to avoid wearing anything made of a living being’s skin. Thomas wondered what the story was behind this incongruent piece in the perfect progressive puzzle that was Uriel Alkaim.

He rubbed his thumb against it, half-fascinated, half-repulsed. It brought to mind the feeling of his father’s now priceless leather belt. Unsure, he flipped it open.

He forgot about materials at once because at the very front was Uri’s ID card and the photo on it was _terrible_. He pulled it out, biting his tongue to keep from laughing. He was seriously tempted to fetch his phone—a newer model Eira and Grace had insisted on—to take a picture for teasing purposes. And then his eyes focused on the writing.

  


**European Personal Identification**

Afa//dlg-ds4-d6gs

 **Name:** Uriel Alkaim Sabath Cardoso

 **Date of Birth:** 11/11/5750

 **Gender:** M **Orientation:** A

 

Thomas stared at the piece of plastic in his hands, then shook his head hard enough he dropped it and had to bend over to pick it up again. And it still said the same thing, orientation: alpha. He didn’t understand, why—? It wasn’t— Suddenly, he remembered the woman shouting at them when they’d kissed outside the adoption centre, the way Uri had been so freaked out. The way he’d let Thomas assume the woman was racist. _Even_ when Thomas had reassured him that he didn’t believe it was anyone’s job to police his love life.

Except his own. So if Uri hadn’t told him… He turned to look at the empty bed. The bed where Uri... _Fuck_. The guy had let Thomas _fuck him_. And if he’d suspected it was more likely to have been ‘never’ rather than ‘a long time’, this confirmed it. Alphas weren’t meant to get fucked, no one who knew would even dare ask… He tried to think back to the night before; had he asked? No, Uri had _thought_ he was asking, and Thomas had offered because he didn’t believe in lying to people about his own desires. And _Uri_ had asked. No. _You can fuck me_ , he’d said, which Thomas had taken as a casual way of referring to the matter of who would wear a condom that night, but now he wondered why he had said it like that. He’d been so nervous, or so Thomas had assumed; had it been more than that? Had it been part of this… this lie?

Surely no one could fake pleasure that well, especially not a man, but had that been a surprise to his lover? Had the act been a simple decision to submit so Thomas would…? But that was crazy, wasn’t it? There was no reason for Uri to hide his orientation at all, Thomas had dated alphas in the past. Alphas and betas dated each other all the time. It was harder for omegas, but some found ways to make it work with betas too.

With the ID in his hands, his uncertainty came right back to him. He'd assumed Uri hadn't done it in a while, that he didn't do it _often_. And Uri had let him believe that, when the reality was that he didn't do it _ever_. What the fuck did that even mean? That an alpha had lied to him about his orientation and then gone against that orientation and let Thomas fuck him? No, not _let him_ , Thomas had barely asked before Uri had offered.

None of this made any sense, but provided with the cipher, his mind was going back looking for the code. The waiter at the restaurant who Uri could keep track of like he had a bell around his neck... Probably an omega if his submissive attitude was anything to go by.

Thomas had just assumed the guy was young, maybe nervous about talking to a hot guy. He put the ID back in its pocket and the wallet back on the bedside table.

He couldn’t do this. Not here.

He found his clothes and got dressed as quickly as he could manage, keeping his eyes on the far wall. Away from the bed.

He was still sweaty, and he should have showered, but he didn’t want to linger. _Fuck it_ , he thought, picking up his bag, he’d take a hoverboard so he wouldn’t stink up any buses.

He didn’t want to think about it, but it was inevitable for someone who’d grown up hearing the story of his parents’ great romance with a beta as the villain. Not that his father didn’t admit the error of his own ways, but he made a point of how love had reformed him, brought him back to the right path.

 _If his parents found out about this…_ To think Colleen had made fun of him for finding such a promising partner to bring home...

He’d learned the lesson early: alphas fucked betas, sometimes for long enough to marry them… but not for real, not with any prospects of it lasting. And betas who went for that kind of thing were disrespecting themselves and the omegas those alphas belonged to.

And the worst thing would be that his parents would be right because if Uriel had meant to try to ignore protocol and sense and… If he’d meant this to be _something_ , then he’d have told Thomas.

And Thomas didn’t even need to think about it, he’d have said yes.

He’d have known it was pointless, that an alpha’s mating instincts couldn’t be resisted forever, but he’d have taken it—a little rebellion in the name of love. His father never talked about his beta wife, but he’d been with her for years before meeting his mate. Thomas thought he’d loved her even though she couldn’t be what he needed.

He’d have taken being loved, even if it couldn’t last. But love, even the temporary kind, couldn’t be built on lies. It was an oxymoron: to love someone, you had to know them.

It was childish, a romantic fantasy really, to imagine that a few dates and a few times in bed together meant…

Before he left, he couldn’t keep from turning to look at the bed once more. Just once more. Even though it was empty of anything that really mattered... He swallowed and turned his back on it. It hurt a lot more than it had the right to after only knowing the man for little more than a month, a lot more than something that wasn’t real should have.

He wondered what it was like for an alpha to want an omega, was it that much different than the ache in his chest right now? Would what he was feeling seem like nothing compared to the lust of an ideal mate? It seemed impossible, but despite how few times they’d met, he could hardly get air into his lungs from how tight his throat had gone.

Maybe that wasn’t love, though. Maybe it was simply the betrayal. He’d thought he and Uriel had connected in a way that was special for them both, and now it’d become startlingly clear that he’d been projecting his own feelings onto the other man.

He was nothing but a distraction, a convenient outlet for a desire their society didn’t allow an alpha to express outside of a bond.

Thomas had never been as happy to hear his alarm go off as in that moment. He’d left his phone with his jacket in the kitchen and his body reacted without thought, rushing to turn the sound off. Being away from the bedroom should have helped, but the kitchen table—empty now of the homemade dinner that had warmed him deep inside the previous night—did nothing but underline the depth of the pretence.

Maybe it wasn’t _all_ a lie. After all, Thomas had hardly played hard to get, had he? Uri was a busy lawyer, he could have ordered takeaway—hell, he could have ordered takeaway and passed it off as his own cooking, and Thomas would have been none the wiser.

It didn’t make _sense_. Who went to all this trouble just to get laid? Not people who looked like Uriel, surely. Even if he—

It was fortunate Uriel wasn’t there or he would have stormed back into the bedroom and demanded an explanation.

He felt bad enough as it was, and the Flames were doing better than they had in years; he couldn’t afford to screw up. He was the beta, the steady one—if Carry and Keenan had sorted themselves out once and for all, he wasn’t going to screw it up for them all.

He could ask Uriel later. Or not.

  


&

  


Keenan had no way of knowing about Thomas’s efforts to remain neutral and focused on the game.

It had nothing to do with him at all: Keenan had invited his girlfriend to watch him play and a reporter had taken issue with the fact that she was an omega and they were dating ‘like betas’, whatever that meant. It sounded like something his dad might say.

Keenan hadn’t objected to that, more concerned with being told by another alpha what he could and couldn’t do in his private life. The man’s orientation was quite clear by how quickly he’d figured out that Keenan’s girlfriend was an omega and the way he was standing almost in Keenan’s space.

Thomas’s parents had spent their whole lives modelling proper alpha and omega behaviour. He might be anosmic, and he might have missed the signs about Uri because he didn’t act the part, but he could read body language just fine.

The reporter was an arsehole, and Keenan mostly kept his cool and made very valid points: alphas and omegas had every right to try dating before they initiated a formal courtship. He didn’t say dating included sex, but the reporter’s questions were heavily hinting that he was disgracing his companion and her family should object.

It wasn’t a great PR strategy, but in a way it was kind of romantic: the kind of knight-in-shining-armour-standing-in-front-of-a-dragon behaviour alphas were meant to engage in to impress and keep their omega soulmates.

A homemade meal didn’t seem like such a fine effort in comparison.

But what could Thomas ask from Uri? He couldn’t offer a bond that would link their bodies and souls—a loop of affection and pleasure, a connection that would allow them to speak without words and always know where the other was...

Right then, Carry, who they’d often joked was allergic to the press, got up and hit Keenan. Even without any skin-on-skin contact, the reporter still stiffened. He was definitely an alpha then. “We need to go shower.”

Keenan turned towards Carry, but the other alpha couldn’t let it go, “What about her family, Avali? What do they think of you 'dating' their omega daughter?”

Maybe because Carry wasn’t the omega Keenan was trying to impress, maybe because the other alpha was clearly challenging him on territory Thomas supposed he’d consider his own, Keenan couldn’t let it go either.

Thomas couldn’t perceive Keenan’s scent, but he bet it was something fiery and overwhelming when he turned around to face the reporter and spoke in a tightly controlled voice that leaked anger like a dam about to blow. “This is a hockey game, and I'm a hockey player and that is _all_ that should concern you regarding me. My personal life is just that: _personal_ , and the people in it have nothing to do with my _public_ profession.” Thomas would have gladly clapped at that, but Keenan wasn’t done. “And there is no reason an adult, whatever their orientation, should be constrained in their personal lives by the prejudices of a small-minded majority.”

The words seemed to cut right through something in him. Keenan wasn’t talking about him, he knew that, but… It _was_ about him. It was about Uri, too. About the fact that everything the man had done so far had seemed sincere. Fuck, _had been_ sincere, but it wasn’t meant to count because _they_ weren’t meant to count. They could sleep together, make dinner and have dates and make each other _happy_.

And arseholes like this one would look at them and tell them to stop playing _games_.

Except… The instincts were real, weren’t they?

Keenan stalked off, Carry waiting only until Santiago started to follow to scamper off himself. And Thomas just watched them, mind swirling, until Bobby slowed down next to him and tugged on his elbow.

“Come on, rookie,” the d-man told him, offering an amused smile that seemed on the edge of turning into an eye-roll.

Thomas went, but he didn’t return Bobby’s smile.

  


&

  


Santiago insisted on going out for drinks to celebrate their victory, and it seemed more trouble to deny him than to sit in front of a pint for half an hour. Once everyone else was distracted, Thomas went home. He was still sore from the game, but he changed into workout clothes and went down to the gym. He wasn’t surprised to find Carry there—the left-winger had left early, reverting to his natural introverted tendencies after the tension at the end of the game.

He was already sweaty and grunting a little as he lifted weights over his head. Thomas waited until he’d safely put them down before speaking, but he still almost got his head bitten off.

It wasn’t that rare for Carry, who was prickly at the best of times, but he realised it was something more than a reflex when his linemate didn’t respond. They’d been doing so well, too, but if Keenan’s outburst had messed with Carry… “Is it because of what Keenan said?”

He sat on the next machine over, not looking at Carry, who refused to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds even when he was in the best of moods.

Apparently, this would be the exception because his linemate abruptly sat up, head snapping in his direction. “What? Why…?”

Thomas sighed. He really didn’t have the energy to pretend right now. “Carry, you told me about the mindreading, then the guy goes and gives a speech about omega rights out of nowhere? Come on.”

"I told you, there's no mind reading!” Carry almost spat. “We just get an _inkling_ of where the other is or what he’ll do. And that… it wasn’t planned or anything. His girlfriend is a lawyer; she obviously has some strong views about omega rights.”

A lawyer. He’d known that, he thought, but it wasn’t like Keenan had ever brought Amalia over to meet them, so... He wondered what Uri thought about omega rights. With his upbringing Thomas would have expected— He shoved the thought of Uriel away. This wasn’t about him, even if there was a chance...

“I haven't really talked to Amalia,” he admitted. The omega girlfriend was a solid theory, except Thomas tried to be discreet, but he wasn’t stupid—Keenan might have had an hormonal advantage because of his orientation and an A on his jersey, but no one could play with them and not see who was running their line. Carry hadn’t even tried to deny it when Thomas had pointed it out, even though it was alphas who were meant to lead. “Mostly because Keenan's kept her well away from the team. But you know who else has strong views on omega rights?”

Carry froze, but he didn’t try to deny that either. He wasn’t speaking out to any reporters, but when he was pushed, he wasn’t exactly discreet about his opinions either. Even so, there was one thing he wasn’t willing to concede. “That's not it,” he insisted, readjusting the weights for no good reason Thomas could see. “He's never listened to me about it before, why would he start now?”

Oh, gods above and below, the boy was _ridiculous_. Keenan practically jumped to attention any time he walked into a room, but he’d never _listened_ to him before? If he couldn’t see something that obvious...

Except maybe it was just a matter of perspective, right? Maybe Carry understood something about Keenan that a beta couldn’t understand about an alpha. Carry was generally terrible with people, but with Keenan… well, he could not read Keenan’s mind, apparently, but it certainly _seemed_ like he could.

The two of them only saw each other on the ice and during team outings, and Thomas had been _dating_ Uriel, seen him in his most intimate moments, been allowed to hold him as he lost it, to— It’d felt so _real_. But how could it compare?

“Okay, it's just…” Thomas sighed. “It made me think. Carry…” He rubbed his face, needing the distance even if his linemate wasn’t looking at him.

Carry straightened, his laser focus redirecting from the machine to Thomas at once. “What's wrong?”

Thomas bent forward until he could rest his elbows on his raised knees. He didn’t want to see Carry’s face right now. “The thing is… Uri is an alpha.”

“Oh, I had no idea.” Carry sounded surprised but not disapproving. Of course, if anyone thought alphas and betas dating was a grand idea, it was Carry. For one thing, _he_ didn’t want to be bothered by any alphas, so why would he object to betas taking them? Maybe he could try that argument on his parents… If he wanted them both to stop talking to him, that was.

“Yeah, well,” Thomas said rather nonsensically. “Neither does he.”

“What?”

“I mean," Thomas amended. " _He_ knows, obviously, he just doesn't know I know.”

He risked a glance. Carry was frowning slightly, as if trying to find some frame of reference to judge the situation. He obviously couldn’t manage. “Is that normal? Like, not telling? You guys have been seeing each other for ages.”

Thomas shrugged, letting his head fall forward again. “I don't know, I guess… I mean, he doesn't have to tell me, right?”

“I probably wouldn't have told you,” Carry said. “Not exactly the professional image I want to project.”

“Yes!” Thomas agreed, turning towards his friend. It was probably best if he didn’t touch the weights while they spoke of this. “But that I totally get, because it's professional and your… preferences and needs?” he tried. His parents simply said ‘orientation’ or ‘nature’, but both terms rubbed him the wrong way. “That's none of my business, it's got nothing to do with hockey.” Carry nodded. “But Uri and I are _dating_ , I figure what turns him on is definitely my business, right?”

Carry, who could dissect a play to the tiniest shift of skates on the ice, wasn’t really that good at this kind of thing, Thomas remembered. But he didn’t see how he could take it back, and— “Is it… not good? Between you, I mean,” he asked Thomas after a long pause.

“What? No! It's great, like… _really_ great.” Thomas swallowed, lips curving upwards even as his eyes watered. It just _didn’t make sense_ , to have that kind of chemistry with someone who...

“So why would you need to know?” Carry asked. “He's clearly happy with whatever you guys do together, and you look happy, too. What does it matter if he likes other things too?”

“Well, if he…” Thomas hesitated, but when he checked, Carry was looking at him for once. “Please don't take this the wrong way, but if he meets an omega and they’re compatible…”

Carry burst out laughing so suddenly Thomas almost dropped the weight he’d been fiddling with on his foot. He put it down, clenching his hands hard enough his nails bit into his palms. He was an idiot, if he broke a toe he’d be benched for at least five games. “No, no, I'm not offended. It's just that being compatible doesn't magically make for a perfect relationship. They love to make up stories about it. But… it doesn't work like that. Just because an alpha and an omega are compatible, it doesn't… they don't have to be together. I mean, they might end up sleeping together, but that doesn't last.” He shook his head and continued, “And there's plenty of alpha/omega pairs who aren't very compatible and have great marriages or whatever. And alpha/beta relationships, too.”

“Well, the only one I've seen didn't end very well,” Thomas confessed. There was no point beating around the bush, he didn’t want his parents to run his life, or to carry around their prejudices and biases, but… It was hard not to believe some of it—he’d seen it with them, he could see it with Carry and Keenan even when they weren’t together at all.

“The alpha left the beta for an omega?” Carry guessed.

“Yes,” Thomas said, “and six months later, I was born.”

“Your mum is a beta?” Carry asked.

The idea hadn’t even crossed his mind—his father’s ex-wife was a beta, but beta women could conceive children too, even if not that frequently. He shook his head, as much to dispel the thought as to answer Carry. “My dad's an omega. And if they find out I'm getting between an alpha and his perfect mate…”

“Oh, fuck, Thomas…” Carry said and actually leaned forwards and squeezed his arm. Thomas leaned into it, relishing the support. He wouldn’t have minded a hug, but that wasn’t really Carry’s thing. Not without padding and a goal to celebrate.

“Pretty much,” he confirmed. Then added, “I think I want to work out until I pass out now.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, folks, lost track of time. Hope you're having a good end of the year and that 2019 will be a time of growth and health for you and your loved ones :x


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second chapter I'm posting today, read 16 first!

**Chapter Sixteen: Uriel**

  


He wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing. Not the fucking, the leaving the man who’d done it alone in bed afterwards.

He’d had to, of course, and Thomas couldn’t be offended that he had to go to work, could he?

Except he’d woken before his alarm was due to go off. He could have... He could have woken him with a blowjob—and breakfast in bed. A kiss.

Hades, he could have left him breakfast in the kitchen, his coffee maker could be programmed to start up at a certain time and... And he hadn’t done any of it, left no sign of how special it'd been.

Because he couldn’t explain. No, because he couldn’t explain it to himself. He’d done it on a burst of rebelliousness he was too old to indulge in and... love, desire. He’d _wanted_ it even as he’d been afraid of wanting it. He’d looked at Thomas, who was so at ease with his own body and sexuality, who didn’t blink at the idea that he liked getting fucked or that other men didn’t... And he’d wanted to be brave, too.

But he wasn’t. He’d thrown down the gauntlet and ran away from the duel. If alphas were meant to be strong, this was the biggest failure of all, not how much he’d liked having another man on top of him, inside him, taking every inch of his body while Uri could do nothing but writhe in pleasure and hold on.

That was a physical act, the failure lay not in the actions—which they’d both found pleasure in with no harm done—but in his shame. He’d done nothing wrong, and he still couldn’t ignore the voices demanding to know how he could possibly—

And _why?_ He’d felt... safe. Cared for. Like he could close his eyes and rest, give up the vigilance with which he lived his life for a few hours because someone trustworthy was there.

Because Thomas was there. Thomas, who dared to do anything but never forgot what was truly important. Thomas, who made _him_ want to be brave, to try, even if he failed.

Thomas, who’d answered his message with a smiley and hadn’t spoken to him since.

Thomas was busy. Uri knew that. It was a perfectly appropriate response, and so was the [All good, you?] he’d got the next day. The man had just been shipped back and forth internationally and played a gruelling game—Uri had searched for it and paid for a subscription on a burst of self-confidence that was rapidly deflating.

But he couldn’t quite shake the feeling that something was off; waking up with the man in his bed for the first time had made him want to curl up around him and never let him go.

He had only allowed himself to watch for a moment, overwhelmed by the tenderness closing up his throat.

And he’d let go.

No, he’d run away.

But Thomas didn’t know that. Uri had needed to go to work, after all. What could be more reasonable?

He had gone to work, of course, and he’d done his best to make a cup of strong black tea wake him up enough to focus on something beyond what he’d left behind, what his body couldn’t forget. He wasn’t sore, exactly, but he wouldn’t— It was there, more a slight pull than pain or even discomfort.

He wasn’t that naïve, he knew it wasn’t the physical sensation haunting him.

He didn't think he'd done anything wrong in bed; he didn't see how he could have with the way he'd let Thomas take the lead. But he'd done something else he wasn't proud of. Something he'd known was wrong all along, even if he hadn't wanted it to be. He hadn't wanted it to matter, but that wasn't how you changed reality. You couldn't just want, you needed to _work_ things into existence.

He wasn't brave enough to call Thomas and just say it, not even when he strongly suspected the man had to know. But he was brave enough to think it, and now he'd be brave enough to talk about it.

If there was someone who would always forgive him, it'd be his mum. Esti liked to laze about on weekends, and every Saturday morning, Ruth went to synagogue to volunteer her time as a Hebrew teacher. She didn’t always go to the Shabbat ceremonies on Friday afternoons, but she would’ve had to have the plague to miss teaching. For her, questioning was a much more fundamental part of religion than liturgy—the very basis of why they studied holy texts in the first place, because they did not understand the universe. Esti was a more down-to-earth Jew, the kind who kept recipes more than kosher, so as a family they all attended the temple for the holidays, but the rest of the time they talked to God in private.

Uri didn’t think God had an answer for this fuck-up, but Esti might.

"Uri," his mum said as she opened the door. She was quick at reading people, but she was also good at giving them space.

Uri followed her to the kitchen and sat as she made tea, chatting about the bubbeh's latest shenanigans. Esti had the patience of a saint, but Uri and David had a theory that Ruth’s mother liked to test how far she could go before Esti would put her foot down. Esti, on the other hand, seemed determined never to lose her cool with the old woman. Normally, Uri would be laughing, but right then not even his grandma’s absurd comments could penetrate the fog of doubt he was lost in.

"You’re going to be disappointed in me,” he blurted out as soon as she placed his cup in front of him.

She paused. “Am I?” she asked. “Okay,” she added, taking a seat with her own drink. “I’ll get over it.”

There was no doubt in her voice. Uriel wasn’t sure if it was a mother thing or an Esti thing, or if it meant she trusted him enough to know he’d never cross any of the lines she couldn’t forgive… Or if she loved him enough to know she’d forgive him even if he crossed one of those lines.

“I’ve been seeing someone.” He sipped, surprised to discover it was chamomile. “A beta.”

Esti didn’t comment, but then again, Uriel had never dated anyone who wasn’t a beta. Neither she nor Ruth had ever expressed an opinion on that choice; they’d liked some of them better than others. In fact, he kind of suspected Sun had stuck around as long as she had to hang out with his mothers as much as for of the rough sex he indulged her in.

“I didn’t tell him,” he almost spat and gulped down some tea like it could cleanse his mouth of the words. It didn’t help.

“That you’re an alpha?” Esti checked.

He nodded, watching her face. She seemed more confused than anything else. “Why?” she finally asked.

"Because me being an alpha isn't important," Uri told her quietly. He wasn't sure it was quite right; how could it be right when he'd spent the last decade of his life fighting _against it_?

"Isn't it? Then why hide it?"

" _Because it's not important_ ," he said too loud and immediately shut his mouth. He shot her an apologetic look, and she nodded her acceptance. In their house, where argument was always encouraged, you sometimes raised your voice or lost your temper. His passionate mothers had never blamed them for that, but they did expect them to rethink their actions and apologize if they'd crossed a line.

She sighed, taking a moment to drink that was, he knew, a moment to think through what they’d both just said. "Uri, you know I don't believe in God, right?"

He stared at her. He did know. She didn’t believe, even if there were days when she longed for the certainty of faith, it was beyond her. But she normally didn’t speak of it much. To be fair, what was there to speak about in an absence of faith? "Yeah, what's that...?"

She met his eyes, hers dark like his own. When he’d been a kid nobody had looked twice when he’d held Esti's hand. Adoption agencies still prioritized parents of the same ethnicity as the child. And maybe it was unfair, but he’d been grateful. To know he belonged, to be seen as part of them.

"I'm still Jewish,” his mother explained. “It's still who I am. You'd think it doesn't matter because I'm not practicing the religion, but in the world, being Jewish still has meaning, to other people and therefore to me."

"And it's in your blood?" She’d spoken about it before, the connection to a shared history that did not depend on a shared belief.

"Yeah.” She shrugged, mouth quirking in silent apology because they both wished blood didn’t matter, and they both knew it did.

It just wasn’t the only thing that did.

“You might not believe in being an alpha, but you can't renounce it; you've got to find a way to live with what you are, to love it and honour it even if you're not doing the things alphas are meant to do according to society."

"But why don't you just say you aren't Jewish?” Uri had never dared asked it before. Even in their house, it’d seemed too private to question her relationship with the very universe. But right now she’d opened up to it, and he wanted to know. To understand. For him, it was easy, not to believe didn’t seem possible—even if he had trouble believing in any benevolence behind the power that moved the pieces of existence. He doubted, maybe because of Esti herself, but deep down… he just knew. “If you don't believe anyway? I don't get it."

"I tried," Esti said. "It didn't work. It wasn't true either. Turns out the truth is not either one thing or another. Sometimes it's a contradiction."

A contradiction, that sounded like him. An alpha who couldn’t commit to being an alpha, who couldn’t, in truth, stomach the idea of being with an omega. Not just because he couldn’t see how it could ever be _right_ that he could do something like what Serene had done to Claudette, but because he didn’t want… He didn’t want anyone to look _at him_ like that, like he was holding a weapon he couldn’t drop. He didn’t want to have to promise he wouldn’t use it, again and again, when he had no choice about holding onto it. He didn’t want to be careful all the time, just to be himself.

He exhaled, then shook his head. "Why aren't you a philosopher again?"

"Who says I'm not?" Esti asked with a smile. "All it takes to be a philosopher is the willingness to think things through, not a degree."

He got to his feet, and she followed him up. He leaned down and put an arm around her shoulders, too carefully until she hugged him back tightly with an impatient noise. "You aren't that strong, boy," she told him.

So he held on, closing his eyes and almost drowning in her familiar scent—the one he'd slowly learned to believe was safety and love and home. And he did believe it, which with the benefit of hindsight and a minor in psychology seemed like a bit of a miracle. But he wasn't the baby who'd lost his mother and grandmother in quick succession, who'd never known his other parent; he was the child his mothers had raised—confident that love _could_ hold you up and show you the way, if you were willing to put your own on the path too, to build your self on its foundations.

He pulled back, and Esti slowly let him go. "I have to go be a philosopher," he offered with a rather poor imitation of a smile.

He was afraid, and he didn't know what in Hades he was doing, but... he had to try. He had to offer his love if he wanted even a chance of it being accepted.

  


&

  


Deep thought, at least of the philosophical variety, had to wait. He’d barely crossed the doorway the next morning when one of the interns called him over to see Mx Yave.

“We got something,” Yave told him as soon he walked in. His boss was surrounded by three different readers, and they moved a plate to rescue another one to pass to Uri. It was the signature on the travel tickets of Claudette’s children—the requirement for both parents to sign for children to leave the country was one of the great accomplishments of the reforms mostly started to get omegas a little closer to equality. Two hundred years earlier, their ancestors had gone through the same process to give _women_ rights over their children and bodies. Thinking of how insane that sounded now made it all the more obvious that despite his upbringing, Uriel could still think of a world where omegas weren’t given the same rights as alphas and betas—especially during their heat.

The image on the screen was an attachment so he scrolled up to see the message. Three words stood out to him at once: _Not a match_.

“She faked Claudette’s signature?” he asked in disbelief. It wasn’t just that it was a serious crime, especially since Serene had done it to commit an even more serious one: taking the children out of the country without their mother’s permission—or knowledge—but that it was so… well, stupid.

“Seems too good to be true, doesn’t it?”

“Is it too good to be true?”

Yave shook their head. “As far as I can tell, she just got overconfident; she’s been pulling this shit for years, and Claudette’s never left before. She probably assumed she’d put up with this too. But you were right: you don’t mess with an omega’s children.”

Uri frowned, the generalization grating. “Claudette’s strong,” he said instead of arguing. He glanced at the form again. “Is this going to be enough to get her custody?”

“Probably. There’s even a chance the judges will ask Serene to relocate as well as never see them again.”

“What can we do to make it more likely? Witnesses?”

“Yeah,” Yave agreed. “The children. It’s their parents, and the judges will want to ask what they want anyway.”

Only then did Uri realise that he had not asked where Claudette’s kids were staying. “Oh, can we… Are they with her?” he asked, leaving the pronoun’s referent to be inferred by Yave.

His boss gave him a raised eyebrow. “They’re staying with their grandparents, Serene’s parents, that is. But Claudette’s happy with the arrangement, she doesn’t get on with her own family.”

Uri winced, remembering the statistics. Anyone cut off from family was particularly vulnerable to end up in an abusive relationship—there was simply no one to notice before it got too far out of control—but omegas by their very nature could end up depending on their partners a lot faster than was recommendable. When an omega went into heat, they needed someone, even if it was only someone who’d buy them groceries and make sure they didn’t go into shock—suppressants and helplines were wonderful resources, but they couldn’t replace a person looking after you. “But she likes her in-laws… That explains some of it; she probably didn’t want to cut ties with them.”

“Indeed,” Yave acknowledged. “You’re good with kids, aren’t you?”

“What?” Uri asked.

“I read your resume, Uriel. You volunteer at an adoption centre, correct?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good with kids. You want me to interview them?”

He got a nod. “I can come off a bit intimidating,” Yave said wryly. “You seem like a nice guy.”

“Seem?” he asked, smiling a bit himself. He thought he was getting the hang of Yave’s sense of humour.

“Well, who knows what goes on in that mind of yours? I’ll call the grandparents and see if they can get them in today, the sooner we know what we’re working with, the better.”

  


&

  


Tenir was seven, and Mina was ten. They didn’t look much like each other, or like either of their mothers, but Uri caught a hint of Serene’s self-possessed attitude in Mira’s posture as soon as the girl offered her hand to shake.

“Pleased to meet you,” he told her. “You can call me Uri.”

“You can call me Mina,” she replied, her wariness more than apparent. Had Serene’s parents warned them of what was going on? Not that they should be kept ignorant, of course, but if they were on their daughter’s side of this legal battle and had access to two valuable and vulnerable witnesses…

“And you must be Tenir,” Uri told the boy standing a step behind his sister. He nodded and offered his hand, not feeling the need to say anything.

“Should we sit? We can get you some tea if you want.”

“With sugar?” Tenir asked with the first hint of emotion he’d seen from either of them.

“Sure,” Uri agreed. He popped his head out and waved to one of the interns until he looked up to be signed the request. “So you like sweet things.”

“Yeah, and grandma—” The boy shut his mouth like he’d been slapped, and Uri glanced down to see Mina’s hand wrapped tightly around his wrist.

“Mina, I think you’re hurting your brother,” he told her, taking a seat across from her in one of the armchairs, only a small table between them. He was still considerably taller than either of them, naturally, but at least this way he wasn’t looming.

She turned her dark eyes on him, her pale skin flushed. “You’re just trying to trick us.”

“Not at all,” he said slowly. “I’m trying to make you feel comfortable so we can talk.”

Mina clearly didn’t believe him. Uri risked a glance down again. “You’re making me very uncomfortable, and I’m sure Tenir doesn’t like what you’re doing to his arm.”

She held his gaze, tense as a wire as he leaned back as unthreateningly as possible. Tenir was equally tense next to her, probably not to cry out in pain.

She let him go.

Uri nodded at her. “Thank you.” He wanted to ask the boy if he was okay, but he contented himself with a quick glance. His arm was red, and he was still gripping the arm of the chair hard enough to leave the mark of his nails on it. His eyes were on his own lap. His obedience didn’t reflect great on Mina, but on the other hand… Why was she so afraid of what he might say?

The intern, Boyd, walked in with the tea, not knocking because his hands were full, and Mina straightened fast enough both her brother and Uri turned to look at her.

He didn’t comment, and of course, Tenir didn’t either. He was clearly attuned to his sister’s moods, although at this point he couldn’t tell if it was because he was afraid of her or relied on her to keep him safe from someone else. From everyone else, perhaps.

If Boyd noticed the tension, he pretended very well to be oblivious as he put down the tray and set things up.

“You wanted sugar, right?” Uri checked with Tenir, letting the girl have a moment to cool down. “How many?”

{Two} he signed instead of speaking.

Uri followed his instructions, then poured a cup for himself before looking at Mina again. On an impulse, he signed the offer of a drink instead of speaking.

She nodded, watching him closely as he poured, then got the milk carafe and added it herself.

{You know your parents want to separate.} Tenir followed his hands but didn’t react, sipping slowly. Mina was more open about it but didn’t respond either. Uri took it as a given. {One of the reasons Claudette wants to do that is because she wants to keep you safe.}

Even though it required her to put down her cup, Mina chose to sign her answer. {We’re safe.}

{Maybe ‘safe’ isn’t the right word,} Uri conceded. {Can I ask a question?}

The girl shrugged, and Uri recognized the look on her face; he could _ask_. Didn’t mean she was going to answer. {Did Claudette know you were going to Russia with Serene?}

Mina frowned. {Why do you want to know?}

{Well, I’m a lawyer and taking you out of the country without asking your other parent breaks the law. It’s not right. Claudette was really worried about you.}

That made Tenir squirm, his calm expression flickering. He was clearly still too young to hide his feelings well when under pressure. But Uri kept his gaze on Mina, who should have been too young but had learned anyway, and who clearly didn’t want Uri talking to her little brother.

{So what happens if she didn’t know?}

{Then that means Serene broke the law, and we can ask the court to keep her away from you.}

“We can’t see her anymore?” Tenir blurted out.

“Do you want to see her?” Uri asked after Mina didn’t object.

“She’s my mother,” Tenir said. “I love her.”

“Of course.” Uri nodded. “The thing is… you know how you like sugar but it isn’t very good for you?”

The boy frowned, making his confusion plain without need for words.

“Well, sometimes people we love are like that too. We love them, but they’re not very good for us.”

“But mum said it’s okay if I only have a little sugar,” Tenir argued, and Uri realised his mistake.

“Yeah, but—”

“Why can’t they just separate?” Mina asked bluntly. She was trembling slightly, but he couldn’t tell if it was with anger or something else altogether.

“Because Claudette is an omega, and she will have a hard time staying away, and… It’s not the first time Serene has done something to upset her, is it?”

{They made up,} the boy said, and it felt like an argument.

Uri nodded. {This time Claudette doesn’t want to make up.}

{So mother wants to?}

Uri hesitated, then shrugged. {I don’t know.}

Mira huffed, lifting her cup for a long drink and then putting it down so hard liquid spilled on the table. “What do you _want_?” she almost spat.

“The truth,” Uri told her. “So that we can make sure you are all safe and happy.”

“How can we be happy if we can’t see our mother?”

“If you want to see her, you can tell the judges that,” he promised them. “But if she did something wrong, then you should also say that.”

“But then the judges will say she shouldn’t see us!”

He shook his head. “They will ask you what you want too. They won’t make a decision about your life without you.”

{It was a mistake,} Tenir offered suddenly. His sister hadn’t quite seen, and she turned to him with eyes blazing.

“ _Mina_ ,” Uri said with authority, and she froze. The way she swallowed hard before turning to face him told him it wasn’t the first time she’d been under the power of an alpha’s will. It wasn’t that alpha parents never used their ability with their children, especially in emergencies, but combined with everything else he knew about Serene, it didn’t sit well with him. “I’m your mum’s lawyer. Your lawyer. I’m on your side and anything you tell me here is between you and me.”

Her eyes were wet when they met his, but she didn’t cry. “She didn’t know,” she said, almost a challenge.

“Okay,” Uri said. “Did you know she didn’t know?”

“No, the school knew.”

“The school? Did you miss classes to go on the trip?”

“We had to leave early on Friday. But we didn’t miss anything important, just an assembly.”

“Who picks you up from school on Fridays?”

“My mum. I mean, Claudette.”

“You can call her mum, if that’s what you call her. She must have been worried sick when she didn’t find you there and couldn’t find where Serene was either.”

Mina shrugged and picked up her cup again, mostly to hide her face behind it because she didn’t drink.

“Do you know what a bonded omega feels when her mate is not there?” Uri asked.

“It… hurts.”

“Yes,” he agreed. “And when an omega is worried, like your mum was, they need their alpha to calm down. But Serene wasn’t there.”

{But…} Tenir gave up on the objection before forming any more signs.

“Serene knew it would happen, all alphas know. They can feel it when their mate is unhappy or afraid. And since your mum loves you very much, Serene knew she’d be afraid when she couldn’t find you.”

{It was supposed to be fun,} Mina said, gaze unfocused.

Uriel couldn’t imagine what to say to that. “You should think about what you want, and about what both your mothers have done,” he said simply. “And then you can decide what you want to happen now, and we can see what they want too.”

Tenir swallowed and met his eyes, pure unadulterated desperation in his own. {But we can’t stay together?}

It almost broke his heart, but Uriel shook his head.

By the time he was done transcribing the conversation, it was too late to call Thomas, and he wasn’t quite sure he could calculate the time differences anyway. He sent a short text wishing him luck on the game instead. Lame, but the best he could do at this point, and Thomas already knew he was a workaholic, didn’t he?

  



	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen: Thomas**

Thomas had always particularly relished visiting Toulouse, it was a beautiful city he had been to often, thanks to their team’s success in the league. The sights used to be an excuse to party and drink too much. Now he was just wondering if Uri would have liked any of the wines on the menu at the restaurant they’d been led to after the game was over. A neat, tidy victory—something to be proud of, but Thomas’s heart wasn’t quite up to the jubilant cheers Santiago still let out back at the separate dining hall they’d reserved.

Keenan startled him when he leaned his elbows on the bar next to him.

“Come to tell me off about that pass?” Thomas asked. Keenan sometimes couldn’t keep back the feedback, even when it was this obvious. In his favour, at least he didn’t shout about it like Carry would do if you fucked up badly enough.

He took a sip off his beer, then frowned a little; maybe _he_ should have ordered wine.

“No, it’s not...” Keenan swallowed, glancing around about as subtly as a bull in a teashop. “I noticed you weren't...” He gestured, and Thomas lost a moment trying to read the sign before he realised Keenan was just letting out some of his nervous energy. “You wanna talk about it?”

Incoherent as that was, it did clear things up for Thomas. “Carry spoke to you.”

Keenan’s eyes widened. “Is that okay? I'm sorry if that's not cool. He only—”

“Oh, shut it, Keenan,” Thomas interrupted, abandoning his drink on the counter and covering his eyes with his hand. “It's not like you couldn't smell it on me anyway.”

“What?” Keenan asked.

“That I'm dating an alpha,” Thomas clarified. “I mean, I know I have shown up to practice without showering once or twice.”

“Thomas...” Keenan sounded amused now. “I don't go around _smelling_ people. And that’s a myth anyway. We don’t actually have super noses; we just translate people’s mental presence into scent, so we can understand it. I had no idea you were dating anyone until you told me.”

“Oh, I thought…” He’d figured there would be some trace of it on him, something another alpha would pick up on like Thomas would pick up on lipstick on someone’s collar. He took a sip of the beer—he was beginning to feel like the conversation would require something a little more alcoholic. Maybe French whiskey would be good. Scottish whiskey was the standard, right? “Sorry, that was... That was dumb.”

“It's cool,” Keenan said at once. He bet Carry would have given him a speech worthy of any enraged parent if he’d said it to him, but not Keenan—not even now that he’d turned into a social justice warrior. “You don't have much reason to know about alphas...”

“Not until now,” Thomas acknowledged, slumping forward. Growing up, he’d known his parents wanted him to present alpha—a part of him had hoped that if he did, they’d forgive him for... that he would be good enough again.

He was pretty sure his sisters didn’t really remember a time before their parents had become someone to avoid. Or maybe it’d never been that way for Colleen at all, but when he’d been little, his parents had meant the world to him. His dad, for all his obsessive controlling tendencies, had also sang Thomas to sleep, and his father had taught him to play football.

It was just the things omegas and alphas were meant to do with their children, exactly right or the picture-perfect family his parents had always wanted. But it was also what any parent did with their kid, the way they showed they loved them and taught them about the world.

Thomas didn’t think it had been an act.

He didn’t want anyone to be proud of him for something he couldn’t control, but a part of him would have taken the affection even if it had been shallow and only for the parts of his life they could accept.

But he was twenty-two, and he’d passed the typical presentation age a long time ago, abandoned the fantasy even earlier. Some betas had a weird fascination with alphas and omegas and their wild, untameable instincts—especially heat—but Thomas had always avoided it as much as possible. He didn’t want even more propaganda than he’d already been sold for something he’d never get to have.

Now he’d apparently taken the rebellion a step further without knowing it; he knew if his dad found out about this, he might even be forbidden from talking to his sisters. And yet… He twirled his beer, watching the foam sway. “But I guess I should find out. I mean, do you think it's pointless?” He stopped but didn’t look up. “Will he... Is he going to leave?”

He didn’t look at Keenan, but he felt him tense up anyway. “Fuck, Thomas, I don't even know the guy's name! I can't tell you what he'll do.” His centre sounded put off, which Thomas could concede was fair. Nobody had ever asked him what another beta would do.

“Uriel,” Thomas offered. It was a pretty absurd expectation, he guessed, but then again, Keenan had come _because_ he was an alpha, hadn’t he? “Would you… I don’t know, is there a chance he _won’t_ leave?”

Keenan sighed, then stole a sip off Thomas’s beer. He looked thoughtful and didn’t seem to notice the odd taste. “I can tell you one thing: if he's never dated an omega, or if he's never been with an omega in heat,” He returned the glass to the counter, “then I think he could stay.”

“Ugh.” Of-fucking-course it was all about the magical sex lives of bonded pairs. The one thing he would never be able to compete with, no matter how much he practiced his deep-throating skills. “So it’s really all that.”

Keenan shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “Yes. But it's only one thing. I was...” He glanced around again, and Thomas suddenly wondered who he was worried would overhear them. Their conversation was important to them, sure, but there was no reason for anyone else to care. “I was going to marry my last girlfriend before that. She’s a beta and she’s amazing. We still talk sometimes. But she didn't want to wait around while I did the hockey thing, and she didn't... she didn't believe me when I told her she was enough.”

His centre was obviously hurt by the assumption, but he had just told Thomas sex with an omega was too wonderful to give up once an alpha tried it. “Was she wrong?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keenan spat. His fist was clenched on the table, and Thomas could feel the weight of his anger—an alpha’s will affected omegas the most, but betas weren’t completely immune. He’d noticed Sven using it to get their attention during practice, the way his voice seemed louder than other sounds, his gaze heavier… But it was the first time he’d noticed it from his linemate. Keenan exhaled, lowering his gaze to his lap. “She was... everything,” he said slowly. “She was the only thing I actually wanted other than hockey. She was worth going home early for, and... she knew how to call me out on my bullshit. The... the sex was great, too. I didn't need more. I was happy until... Sometimes I wish I didn't know. I feel like a junkie. I can't even tell if I want... someone because of them or because we’re compatible.”

Thomas frowned. That wasn’t the impression he’d got from Amalia’s infrequent but memorable visits to the ice. Keenan had pretty much staked a claim in public when that reporter had questioned their relationship, and now… “I thought things with Amalia were going well.”

Keenan was silent for a long, uncomfortable moment, then raised his eyes to Thomas and said way too cheerfully. “Yes! They are. Great. More than!”

Thomas watched him, almost amused at how bad he was at lying.

Keenan kept going, slowing down a little but not gaining much in coherency. “But it’s... There’s all this... danger, I guess. It seems much easier to fuck up when you are with someone who needs you to be careful. It’s worth it, it’s so... I’m not complaining. Just...” He licked his lips and with obvious effort, met his eyes again. Thomas reconsidered; maybe he wasn’t lying, maybe it was just hard for him to speak about something like this. “I was happy before, _really_ happy. I would have loved her for the rest of my life, no questions.”

“But you would have always wondered...” Thomas started to say, thinking about the way his father told the story of leaving his beta wife, of how he’d not been able to stay loyal to her because deep down he’d always known he was meant to be with an omega.

Keenan didn’t let him finish, though. “Sure, and I also wonder about threesomes. Doesn’t mean I’ll step out to try it.”

“You know it’s not the same. When you... I mean, if you meet someone compatible, don’t you...” He swallowed. “Don’t you need it?”

“What?” Keenan exclaimed. “Mate, where are you getting your information? TV dramas?”

“My parents,” Thomas said simply.

“Oh.” Keenan’s hesitation this time had probably a lot more to do with politeness than lack of factuality, so Thomas waited him out. “Well, it’s not like that. Scent is interesting and all, I’ll give you that. But even if you are very compatible with someone—”

“ _Very_ compatible?” he checked. He hadn’t even considered that. He knew, in theory, that not all omegas and alphas were compatible and that there were degrees of compatibility. But how compatible was compatible enough to make you… to make it inevitable? “Like a one true pair?”

Keenan made a dissatisfied noise, probably trying to think of how to explain it in terms a beta could comprehend. “Yeah, maybe. Anyway, even if they smell great… that’s pretty much it. Protocol dictates you’d never touch them, and they’d never touch you. Touching an omega you’re compatible with is… well, pretty intense, but so is touching anyone you find attractive. It’s more… It’s different, but I wouldn’t say it’s better.”

“But heat is.”

“Yes,” Keenan said at once, but clearly reluctant. “It’s better _sex_.”

“Well, that’s…” Thomas cleared his throat. Better sex seemed pretty important, but as much as he liked sex, he couldn’t imagine abandoning someone you loved because someone else pushed your buttons a little harder. “Is there something else to it?”

“There’s the morning after, for one,” Keenan said quietly, now was staring straight ahead at the bottles at the back of the bar. It suddenly occurred to Thomas to wonder why the bartender hadn’t approached him. Were they also an alpha or omega and could perceive Keenan wasn’t in the mood? “You go through something like that with someone, and then… Well, it doesn’t mean you have anything, once it’s done. It’s like any one-night stand, only you feel like you have just slept with the love of your life.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Thomas swore. He could almost feel the agony behind the words. “Keenan…” And then the rest of the words cleared in his mind. “Wait, what? A one-night stand? But you guys are still…” He stopped as the pieces slid into place. “You aren’t talking about Amalia, are you?”

And he wasn’t talking about the girl before that. Thomas had met her, and she’d been a beta. Jessica. Of course, the girl Keenan had been ready to marry. “Wasn’t Jessica the beta girl who broke up with you after we lost the wildcard game with the Cascades last season?”

“We’re not talking about this,” Keenan said, voice like ice being serrated. It sent a chill up Thomas’s spine, and out of the corner of his eye, he caught the bartender stumbling a little.

It also made him realise he was being a dick. “Sorry, you’re trying to help; I didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s fine,” Keenan said, voice still congested. “You should… you should give Uri a chance. Tell him you know.”

“I can’t,” Thomas explained. “I looked at his ID.”

“So? Did he tell you not to?” Keenan asked, which was a pretty dumb question—you didn’t need to be told not to go through people’s things.

But it wasn’t like Thomas could claim he had a lot more sense. “No, but how am I going to explain that I got bored after he left for work and looked through his wallet?”

“That’s—” He could almost hear Keenan swallowing the insult—maybe Carry could learn some of this self-control from him. “Why did you?” he asked, very dubiously.

He sighed. “I dunno, I was bored, he was out. I thought he might need his wallet, and that maybe he’d look a lot less insanely hot on his ID picture and I could tease him about it.”

Keenan deservedly laughed at him for that, turning towards him a little bit even as his elbows remained firmly planted on the counter, body closed up. “Sorry, but… that’s completely stupid, mate.”

Thomas shrugged, draining about a quarter of the glass before sliding the pint over to Keenan as a silent apology. “Yeah, well, that’s why he’s the lawyer and I’m the one getting paid to take pucks to the head.”

“Oh, come off it.” Keenan took a long pull, seemingly enjoying it. “You messed up, it’s not the end of the world. It’s not like most people have secrets this big in their wallets. Like, even cheaters probably bother removing their family instants before going to see their mistresses.”

“Oh, god,” Thomas groaned, laughing a little. “Now you’re making me sorry I didn’t check all the pockets!”

“Thomas,” Keenan told him, sitting up and facing him fully. His expression was pained. “He must be afraid you won’t go for it if you know. You realise that, don’t you?”

He did, of course he did. If he’d been an alpha and hadn’t had to tell anyone… But how were they even meant to be together without Thomas knowing? Did Uri just plan to sleep with him for a while and then drop him? Maybe he _did_ have someone, not someone he was with at the moment—Thomas was hurt, but he didn’t really think Uri was an arsehole—but someone he couldn’t forget. Probably a bleeding heart doing some charity work in the Americas who’d refused the comforts of modern society.

It could even be a beta, really.

Except… Uri was taking things so fucking _slowly_ , who the hell did that with someone they were only stringing along for a quick fuck? Even a series of quick fucks? Not that they’d been quick or… Did he imagine they could have a relationship in a void where no one would care about their orientations? “Well, what if I _don’t_ want to go for it?”

Only after he said it did he remember that Keenan had just told him about a woman he loved leaving him because he was an alpha, because she didn’t trust him to commit to their relationship enough to be worth her time. But Keenan was a bit of a saint because his voice was even when he answered, “Then don’t, but it doesn’t sound like you don’t. Just from here where I’m watching you obsess.”

Thomas’s sympathy evaporated. “Ugh, shove off!” It wasn’t like he didn’t know he looked like a soppy, woebegone mess. He wasn’t proud of how deep he’d got in such a short time, and he was afraid he couldn’t get out without… But that wasn’t Keenan’s problem, of course. “Thanks for this. It’s… appreciated.”

“No problem. You good for now?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Take the beer. I need something stronger. And… I need some time to think it through, but… Yeah, you gave me some ideas.”

“Good, make a list or something like they do in the telenovelas. Will sort you right out!”

Thomas snorted, then signalled at the bartender. “Cover for me, will you? I’m not up to listening to Santiago sing that hymn he made up.”

“Sure,” Keenan said, getting to his feet. “Thanks for the drink.”

He headed off to the dining hall, and Thomas asked for a club sandwich with the whiskey like a responsible adult.

  


&

  


He hadn’t been sure about it, but whatever he’d told Keenan, he wasn’t really one to take his time. If there was a chance of things working out, then the answer seemed pretty simple: he had to ask Uri if he _wanted_ them to work out.

Even someone who’d tried to avoid details about alphas and omegas knew omegas weren’t meant to sleep with alphas until after they bonded—and Uri was gorgeous, but he was no Don Juan, the odds were indeed in his favour.

And no matter what, he wasn’t breaking his promise to a bunch of kids that had nothing to do with Uri’s lie. He'd had a game the previous weekend, but when he'd told them about it, he'd pretty much promised he'd be back the week after. Today.

They’d already been lied to plenty in their lives—most adults convinced themselves children needed to be protected from the truth when what they really wanted to protect was themselves. And even if this adoption centre was alright like Uri had said, it was still rough not to have a definite home, adults who were there because they wanted to be and not because the government was paying their salaries.

Without going into what had happened before they’d arrived there, which Thomas didn’t want to speculate about but couldn’t help but see in the wariness with which they still watched him. He wanted, he realised, to see that caution gone, to get a grin like the one Kyeran had given him the other day in the kitchen every time he showed up. Maybe it was nuts to just decide on a long-term commitment like that on a whim, but he already knew he was good at showing up at concerts and graduation ceremonies, didn’t he? These kids weren’t his sisters, but then again, for all his parents lacked in warmth and understanding, they would provide every one of their children with the best chances money and connections could buy. And anyway, the whole point of adoption centres was that family wasn’t in the blood, but in the people you choose to spend your time with.

Love was time, most of all—the time you gave, the one you were given.

He didn’t imagine hockey was a very likely career for any of them—they weren’t even playing on skates—but if they could just believe in something... in themselves a little bit, in the world giving them a chance, in other people being worth getting to know…

If he could, somehow, offer them that much. Or even if all he did was make their week better. Hell, he’d take making _their day_ a little less worse. It’d make _him_ happy too, and joy wasn’t something to be squandered.

For the first time, he wasn't looking forward to seeing Uri. In fact, he'd called the centre directly and made arrangements with the caretakers who'd have a weekend shift. Nobody had asked whether Uri was going to be there this time and he hadn't said either.

It was up to fortune.

Walking up to the big house on his own felt a little odd after his previous visits—even odder was to think he'd got into a habit when he'd only done it twice. He could count the number of times he'd _seen_ Uri and still have fingers left; how could it feel so... big? His absence like a fog Thomas had to wade through.

But he'd learned early how to persevere through discomfort, and more, really. His parents’ hypervigilance came out of their deep belief that they had to protect their children by limiting their access to those things that would harm them, and it was one of the reasons Thomas had taken to hockey so passionately. The field, and later the ice, had become a space where there were no limits beyond how fast he could skate and how well he could pass.

And a way to be out from under his dad's attentive gaze, of course.

The caretaker who opened the door had a patient smile for him, eyes flickering curiously around. “No Uriel today?”

Thomas shook his head. “No,” he managed to say. “Just me.”

That got him a raised eyebrow. “You sure you can handle this lot on your own?”

It hadn’t even occurred to Thomas to wonder and it probably showed on his face. “I think it helps having a bit of alpha will at your disposal,” the other man said with a wry smile. “But you’ll do fine, friend, and you can call anytime, of course.”

The casual reference to Uri’s orientation made his pulse pick up. He wondered if the man knew because he was an omega… an alpha? He couldn’t tell, of course. Maybe it’d been on Uri’s papers. Thomas himself had presented his identification so his criminal history could be checked, which was coming in handy now that he didn’t have Uri to supervise him.

“Thank you,” he made himself say, even as the words soured in his mouth at the notion that everyone had known, that everyone assumed _he_ knew, and that Uri had kept it from him, which he could simply do because…

It was just the way they were, the way their bodies worked. It was no one’s fault… Except Uri had _used_ it. He probably hadn’t meant to hurt Thomas, to take advantage, but he had.

And it was not the time to think about Uri. He was here for the children, and it wasn’t a joke or an excuse. It was fun, but it was no distraction—he wasn’t going to leave them hanging.

As he emerged into the garden, the bright sunlight of early spring hit his eyes and made him wince. He heard the rhythm of the children’s movements and conversations shift right before he squinted down into Kyeran’s eager face. “Hey.”

“You came,” the boy told him with a grin.

Thomas nodded, not wanting to comment on anyone else’s doubts. “I came.”

“On your own?” That was Blendi, eyeing him sceptically.

If there was any explanation for Uri’s absence, Thomas didn’t have it, so he just shrugged. “Guess I won’t play goalie today,” he said instead.

She rolled her eyes at him, which was as close to approval as he felt he was going to get. “Okay, so Jamil and Tim will captain today, just so everyone gets a chance.”

  


&

  


Getting Blendi and T’Jean out of their positions as leaders turned out to be a great idea, even if neither of them could quite keep from trying to backseat drive their respective age mates. Thomas didn’t interfere; it was between them, and it wasn’t a coach’s place anyway—in a game, the coach was just an observer who could stop the game, it was your teammates you had to rely on to get things done.

Kyeran wasn’t having such a great time on goal, but he was the only one skilled enough to even have a chance to stop shots from kids as big as T’Jean and Tim. Thomas did go to him when he stopped them all to get them to drink. “Hey, you alright there, mate?”

The boy huffed. “What’s the point? They always shoot too fast.”

“You stopped two shots,” Thomas pointed out. “That’s a lot more than most people could do against someone bigger than them. You’re winning, you realise that, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but they got in _six_. Two out of eight is _nothing_ ,” Kyeran almost spat.

Thomas snorted, then had to raise his hands when the boy glared at him. “Kyeran, _any_ shots you stop is a lot. This is a team sport. If your team scores more than you’re scored on, you win. It doesn’t matter if you let in a hundred pucks, not if you team got in a hundred and one.”

Kyeran didn’t look sold on the notion. “It doesn’t feel that way.”

Thomas didn’t argue, you couldn’t argue with feelings, and every player who was truly committed to the game felt that way, like they should personally be able to make a difference. “Maybe you’re not thinking about the maths of the whole game,” he suggested, quoting Coach Hernandez almost word-for-word. “Maybe consider that there’s only one goalie and three forwards per line.”

“There’s the d-men,” Kyeran said reluctantly.

“Huh, doing some research?” he checked, surprised at how easily the abbreviation fell from the kid’s lips.

Kyeran shrugged. “That’s what they called them in your game.”

That made Thomas stop fiddling with the tape on the ratty stick he was holding and look at the boy. “Oh, you watched that?”

“Yes!” came the enthusiastic response from little Carla. Thomas had been too distracted to notice the younger kids who were Kyeran’s d-men today listening in. “We all watched, and we had popcorn and crisps, and it was awesome!”

Thomas laughed, as much in surprise as pleasure. “I’m glad you liked it,” he said as modestly as he could manage. He’d met plenty of fans, but he’d never had a person go and watch his games after meeting him. It seemed… more intimate, somehow. Like they’d watched for Thomas, not for his skill.

Carla seemed encouraged. “Can we do that pass thing with the…?” She gestured awkwardly until he figured she meant passing backwards with a wrist flick.

“We can…” he said hesitantly. He had no idea if any of them had the coordination for it, for one. He glanced across the field. “But let’s finish the match first.”

Jamil led her team to victory, mostly because she listened to Blendi but didn’t allow herself to be ordered around, which was more than could be said for Tim. Even so, he’d have to mix the teams up next time to ensure there were no hard feelings.

He clapped. “Team J!” he cheered, and they responded in kind, happily loud. “And Team T, please!” The losers startled, only some of them shouting back, but the winners were already excited enough to cheer for them too. The startled expressions of pleasure of the youngest kids on Team T were a sight to behold. “Okay, water break, people,” Thomas ordered.

He could do this just fine without Uri, it turned out, he thought as Jamil offered him her fist to bump on her way to the fountain.

He just didn’t want to.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen: Uriel

Javier was very understanding, but Uriel still felt like shit that he was behind filing the application for Jamil’s emancipation.

The old man shook his head at his apologies. “Jamil is safe here, and she knows it,” he reminded Uri. “She’d like to move on with her life once she’s sixteen, that’s all. I’m sure you were working on something more urgent, weren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Uri relented. The caretaker had a way of seeing right through him—and through the kids, who knew well enough not to try to bullshit him.

“I thought so,” Javier said pleasantly. “Come sit down and have some tea since you’re here. The littlies should be back from school soon, and they won’t be happy if they miss you.”

“Thank you,” Uri said. It was the first time he’d left the office at a relatively normal time in about four days—they had a meeting with Serene and her lawyers in two days, in which they were going to make it very clear that it was in her best interests not to go to court. In the meantime, Mina and Tenir were meant to be thinking through their options.

Uri was hopeful, only—

“You’re very far away,” Javier said, placing the cup in front of him.

He offered a smile. “Sorry, work’s been… Ugh, too much, I guess. But good,” he added. “I’m doing something important, it’s just hard.”

“Most important things are,” Javier said philosophically. Uri thought he saw his eyes flicker around the room. He loved the kids, but he knew they could be a handful, and all he ever did with them was help them get whatever they wanted from the legal system or goof around. He didn’t want to imagine trying to get them to go to sleep or do homework. “Don’t neglect your work,” he added, pushing the sugar towards Uri. “We got you covered here. Although your friend’s stealing your fans, I warn you.”

“My…” It took his brain a moment to catch up. “Thomas was here?”

“Yes, Saturday, came over for more hockey.” He took a sip of tea, savouring it and possibly Uri’s desperation to know more. “They didn’t eat him, so I’d say your recommendation was a success.”

For a moment Uri couldn’t speak. Thomas had come. Without Uri. He was happy for the kids’ sake, sure, but… When Uri had asked, he’d said he was too busy to meet up.

“Mmm… Yes, I thought so,” Javier said sagely.

“What?”

“You are in trouble, aren’t you, young Uri?”

“No, I— I think I made a mistake. My… boyfriend, he’s mad at me. But I’m glad he came.”

Javier checked the clock on the wall. “You’ve got about five minutes to get out of here before they get back.”

“But you said—”

“They’ll be fine.” Javier gestured for him to stand. “Just come back soon. And don’t forget to send Jamil’s papers.”

“No, I won’t,” he promised, getting up but vacillating. But of course, the old man was right: he’d already wasted enough time wondering if he’d been caught.

It was time to face the music.

  
  


***

  
  


It wasn’t the first time he’d tried calling, although he’d given up after the third voicemail had got him a short text message update.

When Thomas picked up after only one ring, he almost dropped the phone. “Hi!” he said too loudly in response.

“Hey,” the beta said softly. “Long time no… talk.”

“Yeah, too long,” Uri said equally softly.

“I’ve been—”

“Please let me explain,” he said too quickly, afraid he wouldn’t get the chance or have the guts otherwise. “Just… sit with me for ten minutes and let me explain.”

He heard Thomas exhale. “I feel like you kind of owe me an explanation,” he finally said, a trace of anger in his voice.

“I do,” Uri admitted. “I should’ve— I’m sorry I didn’t explain earlier, but…” He had to stop and breathe. Thomas waited him out. “Can I do this in person? Please?”

“Ugh, you are so bloody polite,” Thomas griped. “Yes, you can. Where?”

 _Now?_ Uri barely kept himself from asking. “Um, my place?”

“Mmm… Guess that works.” He cleared his throat. “You’re out, aren’t you? I can hear birds. I’m at the rink so I could be there in an hour.”

“Great!” Uri blurted out, too enthusiastically. “I’ll… I’ll order food. Any requests?”

“Nah, guess you’ll have to choose something to impress me,” Thomas retorted.

It seemed oddly flat of him until Uri’s brain caught up and recognized it was his own words being thrown back at him. He was fairly certain it was a joke, or maybe it was a reminder of how hard he’d made Thomas work for this.

He was more than willing to work for it himself, but he guessed he had to prove that.

  
  


***

He’d ordered the food straight away and made a stop to pick it up, even if it meant hoverboarding the last twenty blocks to his place. As apologies went, it wasn’t a dozen roses, but he’d noticed Thomas favoured a sweet aftertaste in his savoury meals and he hoped a little spice would help make things interesting.

He almost stumbled right off the hoverboard when he caught sight of the other man leaning against his doorway. It made Thomas snort with laughter, at least, which was a good start.

Uri carefully dismounted, using the opportunity to look away even if he couldn’t do anything for his trembling hands and accelerated pulse. “Hey,” he said when he finally faced Thomas. “Thanks for coming.”

Thomas’s expression wavered, but he couldn’t completely hold back his natural smile. “Smells like it’s going to be worth my while,” he suggested, but his smile dimmed a little. Like he wasn’t sure.

 _Dammit_ , Uri didn’t deserve to have this made easy, but he couldn’t think of a single thing to say to make what he was going to say sound any better. Nothing but the truth. He believed in the truth, he reminded himself. He unlocked the door and gestured for his guest to walk in first.

He hadn't tidied up at all this time; it was too late to hide. The remains of his rushed breakfast lay on the table where he'd laid a feast for Thomas on his previous visit.

"Drink?" he offered, putting down the bag of food and starting to pile up the dirty dishes. He turned around when Thomas didn't answer.

Even the soft smile was gone. "Just water."

Was it the flat? Had Thomas figured it out when—? He cut off the thought, nodded, and turned towards the kitchen. He placed his load in the sink, then washed his hands a little too slowly before getting a couple glasses of water and carrying them back.

Thomas was still standing. "Here," he said, putting the glass on the table instead of making him step closer to take it. He licked his lips, then took a sip for something to do. "Should we sit?"

Thomas was uncharacteristically silent as he did. He looked up at Uri, who only then noticed _he_ was still on his feet. He hastily took the other chair. He focused on the green of Thomas's eyes and exhaled. "You know."

"Yes," Thomas said simply. "I saw your ID in your wallet." He was holding onto his own hands hard enough his knuckles had gone white. “You left it on the bedside table.”

He didn’t apologize for looking.

Uri couldn't blame him; he'd let Thomas reveal so much while hiding himself, a little coolness was the least he could expect. And Thomas was here, he reminded himself, which meant he was willing to listen.

"I didn't plan to lie," he started to explain. "It honestly didn't occur to me to tell you. I mean, it wasn't— I didn't think I'd see you again."

"But then you did," Thomas pointed out. It was said neutrally, but it sounded cold from Thomas, who didn’t seem to know a subject he couldn’t take with levity.

Uri nodded, keeping his eyes on his face by willpower alone. "Do you remember the first time?"

Thomas nodded back, and Uri could see every line of tension on his mouth and neck. "I remember."

He glanced to the side, needing at least that much space to make the words come. "You were... nobody had ever touched me like that." It was a poor explanation, and even that had cost him enough his breathing was a little ragged.

"You mean because I fingered you?" Thomas sounded calm.

He could feel his face heat up, knew it was visible under the artificial lights of his living room. He inhaled as slowly as he could manage. "You... you licked my neck, you moved me around, it was—" He cut himself off, not because he didn't want to be explicit, but because he didn't know _how_ to be. He could describe everything Thomas had done, but that wouldn’t explain what it’d meant to Uri, when he’d never…

"Good?" The question seemed genuine, even though Uri couldn’t see how Thomas could doubt that much.

He laughed, more an exhale than an expression of amusement. "Amazing," he admitted, feeling his chest constrict with panic. His eyes seemed glued to the glass, half full. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Thomas’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed.

"So you didn't tell me you were an alpha because... you didn't want me to stop?"

"I..." Uri scrubbed at his face as if he could clear the fog from his mind. He’d thought about this, he’d even talked about it with his mum a little. "It wasn't about the sex,” he said, and it was true. But not all the truth, “Not just,” he added. And it was also true, but it wasn’t… it wasn’t enough. He gulped, then drank some more. “I didn't want you to stop treating me like I was normal."

The words came out low, ragged, but they seemed to echo in the space between them.

"What?" Thomas inhaled sharply.

"I _know_ ," Uri said quickly, looking up as if his gaze could keep Thomas there. "It sounds crazy. Being an alpha is normal, just different and all that... but... it doesn't _feel_ that way. I didn't want it," he asserted, meeting Thomas’s eyes defiantly. "I don't want to _control_ anyone. I don't— I don't want to have to be careful all the time not to hurt the person I love. And I— I don't want to be expected to enjoy things just because— I don't want... I don't want the fucking instincts that make me look at people I don't even know and _want_ them."

Thomas was watching him with wide eyes—he'd said too much, which was why he'd have rather not said anything at all. And then, so softly Uri thought he'd misheard, he said, "Okay."

"What?" he blurted out, not sure if he was asking for clarification or repetition.

"I had no idea," Thomas told him gently. His posture had relaxed too, fingers curled on top of the table. He grabbed the glass and took a long pull. "I've heard of something like this before. I— Thank you for telling me."

Uri swallowed, not quite sure he’d understood. He’d expected… rejection. Anger. Disbelief. "You’re not... angry?"

Thomas shot him an incredulous look, sitting straighter again. "I _am_ angry _._ You lied to me, for a long time and…” He looked down and drank some more, breathing a little heavily. “And you can’t take advantage of being an alpha. You just— You just said you didn’t want to control anyone, but… If you know something I don’t—”

“I know!” Uri assured him, clutching at the table to keep from doing something more dramatic. “I know, I— I didn’t want it to matter, can you… It was stupid, I can’t change what I am. I… I fucked up, and I apologize. And I won’t do it again.”

Thomas watched him quietly for a long moment. “Okay,” he said finally. “I believe you.”

Uri’s heart stuttered, torn between relief and disbelief.

Thomas was still looking at him too closely, and it was an effort to stay still under his gaze, but he did. He could look all he wanted, he could ask anything and Uri would tell him. “You lied,” Thomas said finally, “But you lied because you don't want to stop, didn’t you?"

"No!" Uri said at once. "I mean, no, I don't want to stop. Not if—"

Thomas stopped him in his tracks with his smile. "No fucking way," he said, and Uri wasn’t sure if it was because he’d spent so long being serious, but his happiness seemed to radiate from him now.

He shot to his feet, and Thomas was already around the table, yanking him in by the waist and pressing a kiss to his ear that was followed by a trail around his face until their lips finally met again. He moaned, low and needy, and pushed his tongue into Thomas's mouth, so desperate he could hardly manage the control not to bite too hard.

“I’m sorry,” he said, panting for air and still not able to stop kissing, not completely. “You are… I didn’t…”

Thomas clutched him by the shoulders hard enough to bruise and pushed him back against the nearest wall. His eyes were dark and intent. “Be quiet now, I already know, and you already apologized, and now we move on.”

“But…” His hesitation must have been contagious because Thomas suddenly let go and stepped back, frowning.

“Is there more?” he asked very slowly.

Uri blinked at him. “More?” He straightened a little but didn’t move from where Thomas had cornered him. He looked down, actually thinking about it. He hadn’t really thought he’d get the chance to say anything else after he confessed. There was one more thing, though. “I guess… I guess you know why that woman shouted at us now,” he started. “And…”

“Yes,” Thomas cut in, clearly impatient. “The waiter, too. I realised, I’m not an idiot.”

He seemed angrier now than he’d been earlier, but Uri couldn’t imagine why. It didn’t matter, the only way out was through. “I had never been fucked before,” he gritted out, heart battering in his throat.

“I know that too,” Thomas said, a little kinder but somewhat still expectant.

Uri looked up, face hot. “Then what?”

“Is… is there someone else?”

“Someone…?” His fists clenched hard enough for his fingernails to bite into the skin of his palms. “ _Someone else?_ ” he demanded, voice growing thin. He only managed to hold back the power of his will because he’d had a lot of practice.

Thomas still saw his anger, though, because he swallowed, shrugging a little. “Yeah, I mean—” He turned to the side, away, and Uri’s self-control snapped like a twig.

“Because I’m an alpha so I must to want to fuck everything that moves?” he asked, voice dripping with disdain.

“What? No!” Thomas said at once, turning back to shoot him an indignant look. “That’s—”

“Then why the hell would there be someone else?” Uri demanded between gritted teeth.

“I—” Thomas raised both hands, palms out, then visibly relaxed his shoulders, breathing out slowly. “I’m saying this wrong,” he admitted, his voice softer and his eyes worried. “I have a question and… and it _is_ because you’re an alpha, but it’s not because of a made-up reason. It’s something Keenan told me about… about what it’s like to be with an omega.”

He wanted to argue, to ask Thomas if he would like it if people generalized about him in that manner. But it would have been absurd; he’d never done anything with an omega and he still knew it would be different. He could feel the pull; he knew it was pulling him towards something powerful. He remembered Esti’s words, the need to accept what you were and find a way to love that part of yourself. He couldn’t deny he was an alpha, even if he didn’t wish to do as alphas were meant to.

“What did he say?” he asked, voice coming out raspy and used like he’d been shouting despite his efforts to keep things civil.

Thomas let his hands drop, then shoved them into his jeans pockets. His eyelashes were almost invisible as he glanced at the ground between them—no man’s land. “He said that he wished he didn’t know what it was like because now that he does, he wouldn’t be able to… A beta wouldn’t be enough anymore.”

It was a sentiment he’d heard often, and there was so much people said that was just them repeating whatever they’d been told… But this was Thomas’s friend, speaking about their experience and feelings.

There was no way for Thomas to know neither applied to Uri.

“I don’t know if that’s true,” he told Thomas. “But I don’t want to find out.”

Green eyes flew to his face. “You mean…?”

He shook his head. “Never, not even a kiss.”

“Oh,” Thomas’s surprise dissolved into a relieved smile. “That’s…” He hesitated. “I mean, you said you don’t _want_ to find out, right? Not because of me? Because of what you said earlier about it not feeling right?”

“Yeah,” Uri agreed. “Not because of you.”

“Okay, then, that’s good. I’m glad you haven’t.” His brilliant grin was back, but he was still just standing there, not approaching.

So Uriel did it instead. It was just a single step forward and they were close enough he could feel the heat of Thomas’s body. He had to tilt his head back to meet his eyes, but he could already tell they’d stepped right back into the familiar dance. And then Thomas’s right hand came down on his shoulder, thumb resting on his collarbone, his eyes following the movement. Uri inhaled, intensely aware of the way he was exposing his throat. Thomas kept his gaze on Uri’s as he slowly slid his hand closer to his neck, not tentative exactly, but… _teasing_. Uri shuddered, reaching out with his own right hand to take hold of Thomas’s shirt as the hand closed around his throat.

“Thomas,” he said, feeling like his voice was breaking as Thomas’s thumb slowly ran down his throat and rested in the hollow where his collarbones met and his pulse was beating like a drum. His fingers on the side of Uri’s neck felt like a brand.

“Is this what you want?” the beta breathed the words right into his ear, and Uri shivered hard, eyelids fluttering closed. He should have pulled away, and part of him did want him to, but another part—desperately curious and almost unbearably hard in his trousers…

He swallowed, nodding a little, and was rewarded when Thomas’s hand slid upwards until he could direct Uri to tilt his head further back. Uri complied, feeling his cock throb as his Adam’s apple caressed Thomas’s palm. And then, with only a soft puff of breath as warning, he was being kissed.

Thomas shoved his tongue into his mouth, stepping into him and pressing him against the wall with his body—taller and stronger and... Uri opened up to it, panting more than returning the kiss. He was still holding onto Thomas’s shirt, but he let the other man yank his wrist off and hold it against the wall at his side. His left hand followed, and Thomas ground forward, his erection poking Uri in the belly even as his own got pushed against Thomas’s bent knee between his legs.

Uri moaned, trying to push back and finding he couldn’t move. Thomas licked his teeth as he pulled his mouth away, turning his face so Uri’s lips just brushed his stubble when he tried to follow. He blinked his eyes open. The room seemed dimmer somehow, but Thomas’s face was close enough to be clear. His lover was watching him back, expression serious. Suddenly, he smiled. “Tell me.”

Uri frowned. _Tell him what?_

Thomas sighed, a little exasperated, but he was still smiling too. “Tell me this is good.”

Once again, the understatement was so extreme it was hard to find the words. He swallowed, vaguely missing Thomas’s hand on his neck. He was hard as nails, and yet… relaxed, loose, in a way. He’d felt like this before, when… when Thomas had fucked him. But also when he’d been cradled in his arms, letting him rub one off against his arse, when… A hard pain on his ear alerted him to the fact that he’d drifted off a little. “I…”

“Is this good?” Thomas demanded. He was no longer smiling, and his hands were flexing on Uri’s wrists.

“Yes,” he blurted out, more out of desperation than certainty. It _was_ good, but it was also…

“Feels strange, doesn’t it?” Thomas said gently, then stepped back. Uri’s heart skipped, but he wasn’t stopping, just dragging him forward by the wrists, walking backwards towards… the bedroom, his eyes registered before his attention was recalled by his lover. “I thought you were going under when I fucked you, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Under?” he repeated as Thomas made him sit on his own bed like he was a doll whose movements needed direction.

Thomas let go of him and stepped away, eyes dark and steady on his face. “Subspace.”

The word was like a glass of freezing water to the face, making him tense. “But…”

“It’s not only an omega thing, a lot of people can go under, if… if they like to let someone else take charge for a bit.”

He was feeling a little less hazy but still far from coherent. He sought Thomas’s face. “You…?”

“Not really.” Thomas shrugged. “I just really like getting fucked. And pushed around a little,” he added with a smile. “And making you feel good. I really like that, too.”

Uri stared at him still standing a little too far away. Far enough away Uri didn’t need to strain his neck to look at him, he suddenly understood. The words made perfect sense, maybe more sense than words ever had before because he could feel how sincere they were, read Thomas’s body and voice as well as the plain meaning in them. He didn’t have any words of his own to offer back, but he raised his right hand and extended it towards his lover.

Thomas’s grin was electric, and he was kneeling between Uri’s knees before he knew it. “I’m going to blow your brains out,” he promised.

A moment later he felt hands on his zip, then Thomas’s hands went under his thighs and lifted them enough that he could unhook first one dress shoe, then the other. Uri’s eyes were still stuck to his bulging arms when Thomas pushed him back with enough force to send him sprawling onto the mattress.

He looked down at Uri from where he was still standing like a proud artist assessing his creation. “Stay there,” he ordered with easy self-assurance.

Uri didn’t think he could have moved if the bed had been set on fire. Not that he’d have been likely to notice because a moment later Thomas started tugging down his trousers, then, before they were completely off, he went for Uri’s underwear. His cock sprang free, hard and leaking already, and Uri melted a little further into the mattress at the wave of desperation and pleasure that shot up his spine.

He panted harshly, fingers digging into the sheets, as Thomas finished baring him from the waist down. He felt the mattress shift as his lover climbed on, but he didn’t have time to react before Thomas’s hand took hold of his cock and squeezed hard enough it straddled the line between pleasure and pain.

“Shhh,” Thomas soothed him, and Uri’s brain finally allowed the sounds he was hearing to reach his conscious mind. Harsh, high sounds, cut off by his irregular breathing. “Yeah, sweetheart, that’s it, calm down. I’m taking care of you, remember?”

Uri opened his eyes to find Thomas leaning over him and was rewarded with a kiss, a soft peck that soon involved Thomas’s tongue swiping into his mouth, deep and thorough like Thomas suspected he was hiding something from him still. There was nothing. Uri let him do it anyway, let himself stay still as Thomas’s hands rubbed at his pecs over his shirt. Thomas’s thigh—bare, somehow—was pressed enticingly against his cock, teasing him with the shifting movements of his body when Uri was so hard he couldn’t... His hips jerked up, seeking more, and Thomas stopped at once, sitting back and shaking his head. “ _No._ ”

Uri swallowed, dazed and desperate and so turned on he was shaking a little.

Thomas must have seen something he liked because his lips curved into a smile, a little sharper and less sweet… almost predatory. It made Uri’s heart thump in his chest, and that was before Thomas’s dominant hand closed around the girth of his hard cock. “This is for me, isn’t it?” he asked, more reminder than question. “And I want it so deep up my arse I can feel it for a week.”

Uri’s erection throbbed, valiantly trying to grow harder still, and he thought his eyes might have rolled into the back of his head because his vision blurred for a few seconds.

“No objections?” Thomas checked.

Like Uri could ever object to this, even if he’d been assuming he was about to get fucked again.

But Thomas wasn’t moving, and after a beat, he said, “Tell me I can have your cock, sweetheart.”

Uri inhaled sharply, either the endearment or the proposal hitting him low and heavy. Thomas put a hand to the side of his face and petted him gently, soothing him a little as he panted for enough air to speak. “You… You can,” he managed.

Thomas smiled. “Thank you,” he said, licking his lips with emphasis that could have been comical if Uri hadn’t been so hot for him his tongue seemed to move in slow motion. When said tongue licked at the seam of his own mouth, he whimpered softly and sucked at it.

But the pleasure didn’t last long, Thomas was already raising himself away from him, dismounting and rolling off the bed. It was only the sound of the drawer mechanism—long associated to the activities he’d been promised—that kept him on the bed.

Thomas was back as fast as if the floor was ice and he could slide across it. “Impatient?” His raised eyebrow made Uri squirm. “Close your eyes.”

He obeyed, and it was like his body came into focus; the sounds—his own pulse, their breathing; the scents—sweat and musk; and especially the warmth and weight of Thomas’s body against him. It only got more intense as Thomas applied himself to it, fingertips travelling from Uri’s groin to his thigh—never more than a warm presence near his cock—then back up again against the hair there. Then his big hands clutched at Uri’s thighs from underneath, pushing until he bent his knees and parted his legs—all of it tugging at his cock but not offering any direct stimulation, leaving him exposed, cock, balls, hole.

He thought maybe Thomas had changed his mind. He could, as far as Uri was concerned. In fact, he couldn’t think of a single thing that would make him move from his sprawled position under this man’s hands. The wet sensation on the inside of his knee made him startle a little, a noise leaving his mouth he couldn’t quite define or keep himself from repeating as Thomas’s mouth travelled farther down, closer and closer to his cock.

He was so sure he wouldn’t get the relief that he almost buckled when he felt the wet suction on the delicate head. “Shhh,” Thomas whispered, the word against his wet skin almost as overwhelming as actual contact.

It took his overtaxed brain a moment to register Thomas’s vice-grip on his thighs, keeping them apart and forcing his arse flat on the bed. “I want you good and wet when I take you,” Thomas said, a promise that mixed with the strength of his hold into an almost unbearable tightness in Uri’s groin.

He was keeping his eyes clenched shut so he wouldn’t be tempted to peek, but he couldn’t— “I…”

Thomas’s mouth leaving his cock was a tragedy in three acts: the wet popping sound, the spit drying in the cold air, and his wet breath asking, “Yeah?”

Uri was either going to have a heart attack or... “I— I’ll come,” he warned.

Thomas tutted. “No, you won’t; you told me I can have your cock, remember?”

He had, and he’d meant it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to hold back from the edge, even if pleasure waxed and waned along with Thomas’s at times delicate, at time intense ministrations.

The man sighed. “Okay, no more teasing. Just…” And with that, he leaned in and sucked Uri’s cock as deep as he could manage, bobbing his head even as he clutched at the base hard enough to keep him from blowing it.

Uri shouted, jerking in place and opening his eyes. But Thomas was already sitting up and squirting a mess of lubricant into his hand. He didn’t object when he caught Uri dazedly watching him bend over to the side to reach back behind himself, hard cock protruding almost obscenely forward as he sighed at the penetration.

It was a spectacle he could have finished himself off to in a couple strokes, but at the same time, it was like he was half asleep and this was a dream. It could have well been, the kind he woke up from with a wet spot and a wistful smile.

Thomas groaned, then shook himself and rummaged on the bed for what turned out to be a condom. He tore open the package and, despite knowing the plan, Uri jumped when he took hold of his erection again.

The other man paused, biting his lip. “Good?” he checked.

It was almost impossible to answer. He felt like his body was both so relaxed he was about to drift off and so on edge he could have gone off in an entirely different manner with just a little stimulation.

But even with words beyond him, communication wasn’t. Uri concentrated and raised his hips into the grip, earning himself a smile. Thomas leaned forward and placed a kiss on the tip of his erection before sliding the condom on him, an economical move that required little contact.

Uri had time to catch his breath before he felt his chin being lifted. “Look at me.”

He did, although any urgency to see had disappeared. Thomas was flushed enough to be visible even in the low light. “You’re gorgeous, you know that?” he told Uri, thumbing his stubble with a tenderness that turned sharper when his hand travelled lower to rest on his neck. No pressure at all, but enough for Uriel’s heart to clamour against in his chest. “You don’t have a safeword, so I gotta ask you again. Can I have your cock?”

The words hit like lightning strikes, and Uri clenched his eyes shut like he’d had a torch shoved into his face. He felt Thomas’s thighs pressing against his sides, and then, once he could hear again, Thomas’s voice in his ear. “Hey, it’s okay.” The other man was bent over him, using his left arm to support most of his weight so his right hand would remain free to touch Uri. “Take it easy.”

Uri blinked, swallowing hard. He didn’t understand what was happening to him, the raw, open feeling in his head, like an anchor had been cut and there was nothing… Thomas’s fingers tugged at his hair and the pain focused his attention on the other man. “I got you,” Thomas promised. “Just… Just trust me, I got you. You can let go, I’ll pull you back out.”

He only realised how tense he had become when the words unlocked the muscles in his back and he slumped onto the bedding. Thomas sighed above him and bent double to kiss him softly on the cheek, praising as he did, “Like that, yeah. Just lemme…”

Uri felt Thomas’s hand on his cock like a distant echo to the brush of his lips against his cheekbone, and then Thomas raised himself onto his knees and positioned Uri’s erection at his own entrance. Normally, Uri would have found it hard not to thrust, but now it was easy to lie there, to wait, shivering slightly because he was growing a little cold everywhere Thomas wasn’t touching him. The soft skin of Thomas’s arsehole giving way to the head of his cock was intense enough to make him jerk, but he still didn’t try to push. With Thomas sitting on top of him, supporting his weight with his hands firmly planted on Uri’s shoulders, it wasn’t likely he’d have accomplished much if he’d tried.

He couldn’t move his torso, but Thomas was too busy to kiss him, so when the lube he’d generously applied made him slide a few inches lower on Uri’s erection, he was free to whimper at the glorious pressure.

Thomas echoed the sound. “Yes, like that, give it to me… I want _all_ of it. I—” He must not have meant to clench or the immediate relaxation that automatically followed and that accomplished the rest of the task with swiftness his soft grunt suggested was not altogether pleasant.

Uri closed his eyes again, overcome by the slick heat he was encased in.

“Hades and Heaven,” Thomas sighed, a praise and a curse. He lifted himself and let gravity do the work of pushing him back down onto Uri’s dick. They both grunted and off they were, or really, Thomas was because with a man a good bit heavier than him on top while he was flat on his back, there wasn’t much Uri could do but lie there and take it.

It felt good, better than anything he could ever remember; not simply pleasure but peace. A quietude he… Thomas scratched his chest, heaving for breath as he raised himself once more, fucking himself hard enough he’d indeed feel it the next day—possibly the next week. Almost too fast for Uri to get off, except just then he clenched as he was almost all the way off, catching the sensitive head on his rim and waking Uri’s body from its pleasurable stupor with a wave of ecstasy he could hardly breathe through. It jolted through him, making his hips buck and slam his cock deep into Thomas’s body.

Thomas moaned, low and deep, and almost growled at him for it. Uri wasn’t sure if the tight, twisted strokes he took up next, short and sweet and forcing him deeper each time, were a reward or a punishment. It was hard to think through the haze of euphoria he was falling into as his cock was squeezed into Thomas’s hole to the rhythm of the man’s panting exhalations.

“Oh, gods,” Thomas whimpered, taking a bruising hold of Uri’s bicep.

Uri unclenched his eyes to see him throw his head back and take his own cock in his other hand with an equally unforgiving grip. He lifted himself again, abs rippling with the effort, and Uri watched, transfixed, as he started to come, his sticky release arcing between them and marking both their chests up. Until he couldn’t anymore, because as Thomas orgasmed, the resulting contractions around his cock reached their peak, and he emerged from the oddly absent state he’d so easily submerged into like a man taking his first breath—both ecstatic and painful, electrifying and burning—as oxygen hit his brain and his balls started to discharge into the tight, wet grip of Thomas’s body.

  
  



	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short one, but hope it´s worth it!

**Chapter Nineteen: Thomas**

Some might have said there had been plenty of revelations that night, but Thomas was…  _giddy_. Bloody giddy with relief, ecstatic with joy and some other combination of words he couldn’t be bothered to search for. He reached out and ran his fingers over Uri’s stomach, rising and falling as the man breathed. 

Uri turned his head in Thomas’s direction, eyes bright and lips already curving in anticipation. “Really?” He seemed far from disinterested, if the way he was turning his torso into the touch was any indication.

Thomas rolled his eyes at him, then breathed in and out. “I have another question.”

He felt Uri’s stomach muscles tighten as he swallowed, but he got a nod.

“Just… Any answer is fine, I just want to know what you like. This was…” He laughed, unable to hold it in. “Amazing,” he said in the end, echoing Uri’s verdict.

Uri smiled, tentative but sincere. “Ask already.”

“When you… Well, that first night, when you sucked me off and then you fucked me, you were…”

“Domineering?” For once, Uri finished his thought instead of the other way around.

“Yeah,” Thomas agreed, relieved. “You seemed to like it, but, I don’t know, do you? Or maybe you do but this is better? Just—”

“I like it,” Uri said, then rolled even closer and reached for his wrist. Thomas let himself be pulled towards the centre of the bed until their knees knocked together. “I just…” His grip tightened. “I can’t ever be sure if it’s me, or…”

“Or your instincts?”

“Yeah.”

“Like I can’t be sure if I want to kiss you because you’re a bloody saint or because you got really lucky in the genetic lottery?”

Uri huffed, and Thomas felt his hold slacken. He only had a few seconds to reach out and crush Uri’s fingers between his own before the other man rolled away. “Don’t.”

The alpha looked up, startled.

“Don’t… don’t go away,” Thomas tried to explain. “I  _want_ to understand.”

Uri watched him, clearly doubting his ability to, but he nodded. “Okay.” His fingers twitched, and when Thomas loosened his own, Uri turned his hand until they were palm to palm. “For me… when I want someone I know, someone I like… that’s one thing. I know why, it comes from what I have with them, our relationship. But with omegas, it’s just there, for no reason. I don’t need to know them, I can even grow to dislike them as people and it won’t go away. It’s…” He met Thomas’s eyes, wary, vulnerable. “It’s wrong.” As soon as the words were out, his grip tightened almost painfully. “For  _me_ ,” he said quickly. “I don’t—”

“I know,” Thomas said as reassuringly as he could. “Although you’re kind of holding a very expensive tool I would prefer not to have broken.”

Uri snatched his hand away like he’d been zapped. Thomas snorted before he saw the wide-eyed terror on the other man’s face. “Hey!” He reached out with the same hand since he was on his side. Uri let him touch his shoulder then tug him closer until he could cup his face. “Joke, love.” He slid his hand down Uri’s throat, relishing the shiver it got him, then leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek. “You’re not going to hurt me,” he whispered right into his ear. Uri shuddered against him.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, voice low.

“I know.” He kissed him again, this time right besides Uri’s eye. “It was just a little painful.”

“Yes,” Uri insisted. “But I didn’t  _mean to_. I wasn’t in control, I could’ve—”

“Uriel,” Thomas cut him off, tightening his grip against Uri’s battering pulse for a long moment. It got Uri to look at him. “So could I. I’m stronger than you, aren’t I?”

He thought he’d more than proven than point when he’d held Uri still against the wall, although he’d melted so beautifully that it was not exactly fair to say he  _couldn’t_  have broken his grip.

“Yes, but…”

Thomas shushed him. “I could make a mistake too, push you too hard, or hold too hard, couldn’t I?”

Uri sighed. “Yeah.”

Thomas pulled back but kept running his fingers up and down Uri’s neck, from chin to collarbone, like a mantra written on skin. Or a spell. It helped him, and Uri didn’t pull away, so he hoped… “You didn’t really answer the question, you know.”

“What question?”

“If you enjoy dominating me in bed.”

The way Uri gulped and trembled slightly seemed like a good hint, but Thomas wasn’t taking anything but unequivocal consent. Especially from Uri, who’d already as much as said that his body often felt things he didn’t want to act on. Things that didn’t feel like they belonged to him but to some external force, instinct or hormones. 

It was the same pheromones and instincts that led anyone to sex, of course, but you couldn’t take someone’s feelings and analyse them until they stopped feeling them. You just had to take their word for it, then try your best to give them what they needed. To find a way to get what you needed at the same time, or afterwards if that didn’t work, with a little effort on both your parts.

“Yes.” It was just a whisper, and Uri’s head was bowed, his body tense.

Thomas gave him a second before assuming he wouldn’t continue. “Well,  _I_  loved it, and I loved this too. You don’t have to tell me now, but if you want to do it again…”

“Yes,” Uri breathed out, watching Thomas like a man watched an oasis. “You…”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Thomas said, dragging him closer until he could put a hand behind his back. He pulled until Uri half-crawled on top of him and he could hold him properly. He was heavy, and his heart was beating madly against Thomas’s own chest. He was stiff as a board for a moment, but then he melted into the embrace, resting his forehead against Thomas’s shoulder, breathing fast and wet against his cheek.

Thomas held him for a few minutes, not speaking, before he patted him on the back. “Turn around.” Uri lifted himself up a little, arms bulging pleasantly to support his weight. “Come on,” Thomas insisted, not explaining, and the other man didn’t ask before obeying and turning his back to him. Thomas rolled closer, moulding himself to the other’s back.

Having his cock against Uri’s buttocks wasn’t exactly a chaste experience, but this wasn’t about sex and, all jokes aside, he’d come twice already, and it was well past midnight. He put his arm around Uri’s waist, his fingers against the other’s chest—as if he could calm him down that way or keep that heart safe. It took a few minutes, but his instinct proved correct when Uri relaxed against him, tilting his head back to press closer to him.

Thomas thought about telling him how amazing he was, or about the things he wanted to do together—switching opened up a world of possibilities—but he was warm and safe, tangled up with the man he loved. It could wait. 

   
   


***

   
   


He was warm and comfortable, and naturally reluctant to move.

The same could not be said for the source of his comfort, who was squirming against him in a way that could have been pleasant in different circumstances. Thomas grunted, tightening his grip. For his trouble, he got pinched hard enough to jolt him awake. “What—?”

Freed, Uri rolled over. “Sorry, but I’ve been trying to get free for, like, ten minutes.”

Thomas stared at him blankly, blinking to keep his eyes open. He vaguely registered Uri’s mouth twisting into a smile. “Go back to sleep,” he was told.

   
   


***

The second time he woke the source of warmth was behind him and much more amenable to cuddling. He would have still liked to sleep in—he’d turned off his morning alarm the night before—but he didn’t mind spending some time getting held close and nuzzled, either. As long as his eyes were closed, it counted as napping, really.

“I made you breakfast,” Uri mumbled against his earlobe, which Thomas’s brain would have chosen not to process if it hadn’t been followed by a flick of his tongue.

He shuddered, startled, and Uri laughed—too loud this early. “Ugh,” he complained.

“Come on.” Arms pressed him against a broad chest, perky nipples twin points of heat against his bare back. “There’s coffee, but it’ll go cold.”

He scrunched his face, but managed to ask, “Time?”

“Almost ten,” Uri said, his warmth suddenly disappearing. Thomas rolled into the warm spot his body had left, searching for him. He was standing by the bed, dressed in a white t-shirt that made his skin glow, arms crossed. Beautiful, as usual. But…

“How do you feel?” his voice was a little rough from sleep, but this was important. He’d tried to be careful, but there was a reason you were meant to have a safeword, and Uri had dropped so fast that… No, that wasn’t fair. If something was wrong, it was on Thomas; Uri had so little experience he hadn’t even known he  _could_ go under.

Uri pressed his lips together. “About last night?” He glanced away, but his mouth was already curving upwards, and when he met Thomas’s eyes again, his own were bright. “Good. Really good…” Thomas watched his cheeks colour like a caveman watching the sunrise on a winter morning—the relief almost overpowering the sheer beauty of it. “I mean, a little strange, sure, but…” He shrugged. “Strange means you’re learning.”

Thomas pushed himself into a sitting position, ignoring the satisfaction of drawing Uri’s gaze to his chest. It sounded like a motto of some kind, often repeated, a truth that worked in different situations. It was, if he thought about it, also true. “Guess it does.”

So Uri was fine. They were fine. Fuck, they were more than fine, this was…

“Coffee?” Uri offered, then extended a hand like a lord out of a story inviting a lady to dance.

Thomas took it and rolled forward as Uri pulled him to his feet. They ended up close enough his mouth was much more tempting than the promised caffeine, but his stomach chose that moment to rumble loud enough to remind him of the sheer amount of calories he’d burned last night. He sighed and gave Uri a peck on the cheek, ignoring his laughter, and sidestepped him to go wash his face.

It took him until his second cup of coffee to notice the discolouration on Uri’s upper arms where his undershirt left them exposed. “Oh, shit, did I—?”

Uri glanced up from the papers he’d apologized for needing to review. He was wearing glasses, thin and tinted cream. “What…?” He looked hot in them, of course.

“Your arms,” Thomas said, pulse spiking. Uri had asked him to be rough, and he’d made his enjoyment clear every time Thomas had asked for confirmation, but to leave marks...

“Oh.” Uri could barely seem to repress his grin. He twisted his wrists upwards to expose the inside of his biceps; the bruises were even darker there. Where Thomas’s thumbs had pressed. “I like them,” he said with such easy confidence it left Thomas dry-mouthed.

And that’s how they’d ended up spending the rest of the morning in bed too.

   
   



	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we go back to the case!

Chapter Twenty: Uriel

Serene’s continued cool smile had stopped being reassuring and become downright creepy about two meetings ago. And yet, a part of him had expected her to be different around her children.

She turned their way and opened her arms to hold them close. Mina and Tenir stepped up to her and held on, obviously used to the physical affection. But when the kids moved aside, the alpha’s face was nothing but satisfied and her scent had barely changed at all.

“Children, would you please sit here?” Mx Yave asked, not quite hitting the kindly grandparent vibe Uri thought they were going for.

Mina swallowed and dragged her little brother to the seats in the middle of the conference room where they’d agreed to meet once again.

Mx Yave took the reader with the faked authorization out of his pocket like someone might take out a weapon, then put it on the table without a word.

Serene’s lawyer glanced down and froze, not giving anything away. “What is this?” he asked evenly.

Mx Yave met his eyes. “The authorization to take the children out of the country, which my client did not sign. A calligraphic expert has verified it.”

“That’s absurd,” Serene said at once, mouth twisting into an incredulous smile worthy of an award. “Darling, that’s your signature.” She pointed. “I’d know it anywhere, why don’t you look again?”

“That’s irrelevant,” Uriel said before the omega had a chance to react to her alpha. “Because the judge will take a calligraphic expert’s word over yours.”

“They will take a calligraphic expert’s words over the person who actually signed too?” Serene asked him calmly.

“No,” Claudette almost spat. She was stiff as a board and clutching at her own hands under the table. “I didn’t sign. I didn’t know. You—”

“You’re wrong, darling,” Serene smoothly cut in. “What reason could I possibly have to take them away without telling you?”

“I…”

“Please do not address my client,” Uri told the woman again.

“Your client is my bondmate, and I will address her as I like,” the other alpha told him.

“Mx Coleridge,” the old lawyer said politely, but clearly a warning.

“Yes?” She turned to him with her blue eyes wide, and Uri tried to focus on that and not on her unchanging scent, more repugnant to him each time it reached his nose.

“We are all here to sort things out,” the lawyer reminded her. “Please do not address your bondmate at the moment.”

She sighed, but conceded with a nod, eyes going straight for the kids sitting at the centre of the table. “Can we ask them whatever it is, so they can go sit outside?” she asked, the picture of a concerned mother.

It was a very good picture, but pictures didn’t trump forged signatures, Uri reminded himself.

“Of course,” Mx Yave said at once. “Mira?”

The girl turned to look at him but didn’t speak. “We are going to ask you tell us what you want, and no one will speak until you signal us. You can say whatever you want, and Mx Simons and I will make sure you’re safe.”

She glanced down at the table, then leaned closer to her brother by her side. “We want to go home with mum, and we want to see mother sometimes.” She stopped, the words must have cost her greatly but at least no one interrupted, just like Yave had promised her. “My mum didn’t… She didn’t know we were going. I… Tenir wanted to call her when we got there, but mother said we couldn’t because she’d be busy. We never called her, and we always call her to say goodnight.” At this, she seemed to collapse, bending forward and starting to cry in earnest.

Claudette was on her feet at once, crossing the room before anyone else could react, and first Mira and then Tenir, who’d started whimpering softly, pressed themselves to her beautiful blue jacket, crying against her middle as she curled herself around them and whispered reassurances.

Uri got up and went around the table until he was standing behind the children in Claudette’s line of sight. She looked up at him, as he had known she would, and he tilted his head towards the door. “We’ll get you some tea; you don’t need to be here for this part.”

She hesitated, then glanced down and gave a sharp nod. “Call me in before they go,” she demanded.

“Of course.” He inclined his head.

But before he could open the door, Serene’s clear voice rang across the room. “Tenir?”

The boy turned in his mum’s arms to look at his mother. Uri did the only thing he could think of and stepped into his line of sight.

Serene’s chair scraped against the floor as she jumped to her feet, face twisting with rage. “You—”

“Mx Coleridge!” Her lawyer followed her up and put a hand on her elbow to keep her from advancing forward and attacking Uriel.

Behind him, he heard the door open and bodies moving—he wondered if it’d been Claudette to react or one of the children, but it didn’t matter, his job was to keep the alpha from going after them.

“I apologize,” he said blandly. “I forget how tall I am. Maybe we should all just sit down again?”

Serene was meeting his eyes in a straight-on challenge, but she wasn’t moving closer, and she’d clearly got the point that Uri was much stronger than her and attacking him would be unwise. If he’d needed any confirmation that her emotional processes weren’t normal, the way she took her seat like a queen and gestured for all of them to do the same would have been enough. Perhaps the betas found it believable, but Uri—unbonded though he was—understood that kind of self-control was beyond impressive, it should have been impossible. A gift only someone with little ability to feel fear could brandish.

“You heard my daughter. My children do not want to be separated from me.”

“No,” Mx Yave agreed. “But you do want a comfortable life, don’t you, Mx Coleridge?”

“If you’re implying my client will give up her custody rights for money—”

“Money?” Mx Yave interrupted. “I am no longer speaking of money, I’m speaking of avoiding prison. Forgery and kidnapping would keep your client there for up to a decade.”

“That’s absurd!” Serene snapped. “They are _my children_ , no judge in the world will agree that I kidnapped them.”

“There’s a precedent,” Uri offered, putting his own reader down now. It was his own research too. “A similar case, although there was no _forgery_ back then, it was also an alpha who took the child out of the country without their omega’s authorization. The judge gave him five years in a rehabilitation centre.”

“Mx Simons,” she said pointedly to her lawyer.

“I know of it,” he said, but his eyes were more on Mx Yave than her. “Would you please give me a moment alone with my client?”

“Of course.” Mx Yave inclined his head and led the way out.

  
  


***

  
  


The request for privacy was a dead giveaway, but Mx Yave didn’t say anything. Instead he went to see if Claudette and the children liked the biscuits.

Mira’s cup was cooling on the table as the girl clung to her mum, but Tenir had shoved at least two of the delicacies into his mouth and looked like a squirrel as he chewed.

“Think he’s gonna need the recipe,” Uri commented.

Claudette’s eyes flew to his face, attentive and wary. He gave her a nod, not a promise exactly but close enough she went back to carding her long fingers through her daughter’s hair. “Ten,” she said without looking, and the boy froze in place. “One at a time,” his mother continued.

“Don’t worry,” Uri’s boss offered. “I’ll tell your mum where I buy them.”

Uri hadn’t heard them speak, but maybe they were whispering or signing. Maybe they didn’t need words; Mira pulled back, and Claudette offered her a tissue to dry her tears. The girl did and then, just as nonchalantly, took her cup and cradled it in her hands. She just held it, as if enjoying the heat, until her mother put her hand on her shoulder, and the girl sighed and took a sip.

Uri couldn’t quite imagine being able to ease someone’s pain like that. Of course, being a parent also meant being able to _cause_ someone pain like that.

Claudette suddenly straightened, head turning towards the door, and Uri knew to turn his body so he was between whoever was coming in and her—an alpha instinct that he had no need to regret.

It was Mx Simons, although Uri’s nose picked up that the man’s client wasn’t far behind. “We are ready for you,” the lawyer announced formally, not crossing the doorway.

“Of course,” Mx Yave replied.

Uri heard him ask Claudette to come inside. He had to bite his tongue to keep from telling her that she didn’t have to, that they could solve this without her. She was a grown woman, at least ten years his senior, and she could handle her own life—whatever his body insisted about her needing shielding.

The first thing he noticed when they walked in was the other alpha’s scent had finally changed.

It wasn’t a great improvement, of course, because the slightly off-putting aroma of overly sweet flowers had now turned into something astringent like bleach. He saw Claudette hesitate out of the corner of his eye but somehow, even though it was her alpha bondmate who was angry enough to stink up the room, she took another step forward.

He followed her example and pretended for the betas’ sakes.

Of course, it was pointless, the betas might have been noseblind, but they were lawyers.

Mx Simons gestured towards the table. “Shall we sit?”

It was not his place to offer but his tone and posture were enough for Mx Yave to nod his assent.

“First of all, my client would like say something to Claudette.”

Uri’s heart skipped a beat; it was the first time the opposing counsel hadn’t needed to be asked to use their client’s first name.

“Would that be okay with you?” Mx Simons asked, turning to the omega in question.

Claudette paused next to a chair, eyes luminous but cold—her scent was muted, something Uri had some experience of but still found disconcerting. Like looking at someone’s expressionless face while your brain scrambled to make sense of their intentions. “Speak,” she said in a grave voice.

Serene’s scent flared, maybe no matter how cold hearted she was, she couldn’t completely repress her instinctive need to control her omega and to have that omega give her a direct order...

It took her a moment to find her voice. “I want to apologize.” She sounded calm and regretful, the perfect performance if you couldn’t tell how absolutely fake it was by the pheromones that gave her away. “I made a mistake and I hurt you, it’s the last thing I ever—” She cut herself off, and to Uri’s utter shock, her scent shifted, turning bitter and sour. Pain, he could have sworn, if… “I promised to protect you.” Her voice caught, her eyes were shinning. She was…

Claudette’s own scent changed, inevitably reacting to her alpha’s distress. _Apparent_ distress, Uri reminded himself. Or distress because she knew she had lost, not because she’d hurt her omega. But he wasn’t so sure his client could keep that in mind when—

“You did,” she said, her own voice tight. “And you lied.”

“I’m sorry,” Serene whispered, swallowing hard and looking at her mate imploringly.

 _Oh, fuck,_ Uri thought.

Claudette shook her head almost violently, her hair whipping around her. “I don’t care,” she snapped, the words torn from her throat.

And for a second, Serene’s façade came down, anger flaring like smoke in her scent. She _was_ lying.

And Claudette knew it. Of course Claudette knew it, she’d probably known it for years, even if she’d loved her mate too much, or been too afraid of her to say it to her face before now.

“What?” the alpha asked, eyes widening dramatically. Her scent was bitter again—how on earth was she doing that? Did she use an unhappy memory? Uriel found the notion that people could read his emotions off him without his consent profoundly invasive, and yet, this was…

Claudette turned her face to the sight, smelling like a burning building, gasoline maybe, or some other poisonous chemical. She was stiff, probably to keep from shaking. “No,” she managed to get out in a thready, thin voice.

“Claudette—” Serene started, and Uri knew, with a certainty he couldn’t have explained, that he couldn’t let her speak.

“That’s enough,” he said, getting the small alpha’s burning glare in return. “She’s said no, and we all know the influence you have over her.”

“We are bonded,” Serene said slowly, and she was _calm_ again. She was certainly angry at Uri, but she could control it. Just like she could control her scent. Just like she’d been able to control her bondmate for years.

“Yes,” Uri agreed. “And my client has requested to repudiate that bond.”

“I have,” Claudette added.

“That is all said and done, then,” Mx Yave intervened, drawing their attention, taking a chair and placing a folder Uri hadn’t even registered on the table between them. “Let’s talk about how we’re going to do this. For the good of the whole family,” he added with a mild look at his counterpart.

“Serene,” Mx Simons said in turn, conceding without argument. “Please take a seat.”

The alpha held still for a moment, watching her omega, who in turn was staring at her own hands on the table top, then took the chair her lawyer had pulled back for her.

“I think it’s been made abundantly clear that repudiation is not optional for my client and that if Serene were to refuse, we’d go forward with the criminal case regarding the children’s removal from the country without proper authorization.”

“Indeed,” Mx Simons said tightly. He couldn’t be enjoying being in such a weak position to negotiate from.

“The initial offer of economic support is no longer on the table either,” Mx Yave proceeded. “But if your client is willing to cooperate, Claudette is ready to make allowances regarding the children. She’ll allow visits to your client’s place of residence within Europa as long as your client agrees to a locked GPS tracker for all of them for the duration of each of those visits.”

The alpha stiffened at the words, but the self-control Uriel found so disturbing came in handy at times when someone else would almost certainly have reacted violently. “How many days a year?”

“None,” Mx Yave said. “My client will have sole custody, but she will agree on good faith to visits during the holidays as long as the children themselves want to go.”

Uri didn’t think any of them missed the use of the future tense, not the conditional. They had all the cards, and Mx Yave was playing no games.

“What about my parents?” Serene asked.

Uriel’s instinct was to cut off the whole family, but Claudette had made it clear her parents-in-law were family and that wouldn’t change no matter what their daughter did.

Uri’s boss took a moment longer than necessary to explain, “Nothing will change for anyone else,” he told the opposing lawyer. “But if she were to meet with them while the children visit, the tracker will be required, and my office should be notified at once. This can, of course, only happen during business hours, so I recommend your client plans her visits carefully if she wants this arrangement to remain in good faith.”

That had been Uri’s suggestion, which Claudette had grudgingly agreed to. It did require the grandparents to sign an agreement to honour Claudette’s wishes and notify them if their daughter tried to contact the children while they were in charge of them. She insisted it wasn’t necessary, that the grandparents were only concerned for the children and indignant about what Serene had done, but Uri had been a lawyer long enough to know putting things on legal paper helped ensure any doubts anyone might be harbouring go away real fast.

For a moment, Uri thought Serene would object, but she looked straight at Claudette and nodded instead. “Very well, as you wish.”

The way the omega stiffened gave away the significance he was missing to that phrase. But Claudette just waved at Uri a request for the papers.

It often seemed anticlimactic to sign an agreement after long and fraught negotiations like this, but this time there was an underlying doubt too. Had Serene agreed too easily because she had something else in mind?

It would have been absurd to expect anything else from someone who’d spent years toying with her mate’s feelings and wellbeing, but Uriel had also been a lawyer long enough to know he couldn’t control what happened outside a court or a conference room. The world outside was still a difficult place full of people ready to take advantage of others’ vulnerabilities, and he was just one man working with other good people to make sure that didn’t happen.

And whatever his gut said, his head remembered that being an alpha didn’t mean being invincible or always able to protect those who needed it. Maybe being an alpha was one of the forces pushing him to get in front of those who flagged, just as his upbringing was, and that was _fine_.

He was fine with who he was: a complicated, contradictory human being, with impulses he sometimes feared and desires he didn’t quite understand, and a deep need to help others he couldn’t completely justify with either biology or culture. He didn’t need to explain because he didn’t want to change it.

And what he wanted to change, or at least to consider changing, he would take one step at a time. Or rimming session, really.

Power corrupted, he’d always known it, but power also couldn’t be given up that easily. It was a gift and a curse, from the gods, or their genes, or coincidence. Some people had money, or good looks, or the right colour skin, or the size and force to impose their will one way or another. A lot of those people were alphas, and men, and white, and rich.

But power meant that all of them had a choice.

Serene had made her own. She signed the divorce papers and told her omega she would see her soon with what sounded like genuine regret, scent unchanging. Uri wondered if she could feel anything like it or if she was just angry something of hers had been taken, if her instincts simply demanded that she get it back any way she could, and she had no other impulses to stop her from trying…

“We will contact you about the time and place of the procedure,” Mx Yave said in response, utterly pleasant while Uri was too angry to speak.

The other alpha didn’t respond to that, turning and leaving the room, followed by her lawyer, who took a moment to nod at them. Uri wondered if he regretted taking her on as a client, or if he was thinking that everyone deserved good representation.

Uri was an alpha too, but he wasn’t just an alpha. He was the choices he made as well. Someone with power but aware of it, trying his hardest every minute of every day not to use it for the wrong things, to use it for the _right things_. As he watched his client sag forward and press her forehead onto the glass table, trembling a little with unspent adrenaline and smelling like rain on hot pavement, he knew that for today, at least, he’d succeeded.


End file.
